Those Moments
by Cemarkah
Summary: Austin Moon's first album isn't doing so well. So Team Austin comes up with a new gimmick to get people interested. And the gimmick is? Austin and Ally, the latest power couple. Problem is, Ally isn't so happy about her new role. With romance and family drama brewing in her life, she's not going to be happy about much. Please review. I really do understand grammar. Slightly OOC.
1. Chapter 1 - You Can't Catch Me

**Just a warning, these characters may not exactly be the ones you remember from the show. I tried to make them a little more realistic. A little. And Ally's definitely different, so hang in with her. Disclaimer - I do not own Austin & Ally or any of these characters. **

It's almost closing time, and Sonic Boom is slowing down. I stand by the cash register. I really want to lean against the counter, but it's bad for business to appear lazy. Austin and Dez are by the guitars. Austin is memorizing them. I think Dez is just naming them. A few minutes ago they were playing rock star with our microphones. I swear, they think this store is their own personal playground.

Trish is in a chair in the corner, feet propped up, reading a magazine.

_For people who are always telling me I have no life, they don't seem socially active. _I hum a tune, drumming my fingers on the top of the cash register. My nails are really short. I should stop biting them. It's almost as bad as sucking hair. Except hair tastes better. Generally.

I ring up the last customer. He buys a piccolo that had been sitting alone on the shelf for months. Dad will be happy that I sold it. The door closes as the lucky customer walks out. Before I can blink, Austin, Dez and Trish are all hovering over the counter.

"Hey guys," I smile. "Whassup?"

"Was that supposed to sound cool?" Austin smirks.

"Yeah." Dez flips his hair. "Because it wasn't." He crosses his legs. He is wearing skinny pants with a brightly colored pattern of blue, yellow and green noodles. He has no right to judge me.

Trish shakes her head in agreement. Which really, if you think about it, makes no sense. "Just stick to hello. Or maybe just hi. The less you talk the better."

"You guys are such good friends," I say, reaching under the counter to pull out the stack of neatly-typed agendas and my beloved gavel. I pass out the papers, then bang the gavel, making the three of them jump. "I hereby call this Team Austin meeting to order, by the power vested in me by my superior intelligence."

"That is so not why you have that power," Austin says, picking up the agenda and scanning it quickly.

_No, _I think. _It's because the so-called manager here doesn't actually manage._

"So, here's basically where we are." I prepare to give a stupid, step-by-step recap of the past few months, the kind that you would find on TV shows with bad dialogue. Believe it or not, Austin and Dez find it really helpful. Well, mostly just Dez. "Austin's album isn't doing so well. Starr Records isn't happy about it, and unless we start promoting it, he's going to fade into obscurity."

"No I won't," Austin objects. "I wrote a song about how I'm not going to fade into obscurity. Remember? A billion hits?"

I stare at him. Sometimes I wasn't sure if he was just acting dumb or if he really _was _that dumb. When he cracks a smile, I know he is just playing with me. "You're so funny," I said, trying to roll my eyes in an offhand manner. "The point is, we need to get people more interested in Austin."

"The Cheetah Beat article..." Trish starts.

"Sure," I say. "Because people other than ten-year-old girls read that. We need a wider audience."

"The TV appearances..." Austin adds.

"Oddly, still not helping. You weren't famous enough then."

"Yodeling for green bricks..." Dez begins.

I tilt my head, tightening my lips. This is what Austin calls Ally's _I don't really understand how a person as stupid as you lived this long _look. I have to say, the name and the look itself are pretty effective. "Never mind," Dez says sheepishly.

"So ideas, guys," I finish. "Trish. Try to do some actual managing."

She shrugs. "Of course I'll try. But I've been so busy with work lately..."

We move on with the rest of our business.

* * *

_You've been trying for a long time_

_But you know I've got you beaten_

_Cause I'm stronger and I'm smarter_

_While you're tired, young and weak_

_And you should know you can't outrun me_

_Cause I'm never gonna fall down_

_Even though you think I'm cruel_

_You just don't deserve this crown_

_So na na na na na_

_You can't catch me_

_Na na na na na_

_You can't catch me_

_You can cry_

_You can scream_

_But na na na na na_

_You can't catch me_

I finish the song on a C minor chord. I'm gulping for air. My new song is hard to sing. I'm still not sure when I should breathe. The words all run together. I bend over the staff paper, about to make a few subtle changes to the melody of the chorus. Sonic Boom is empty now. Everyone has gone home, even my friends. This is my favorite time to write music. I would never tell Austin this, but I find it easier to write when he's not around helping me.

I would also never tell Austin how much I hate writing music for him.

It's not him personally. Austin is...OK. He's not insanely talented. His voice isn't that great. But he's a good guy, I think. The problem is, his music is all about really shallow stuff, about being famous and meeting girls and letting go and summertime and other themes that have already been explored by hundreds of other artists. It's frustrating for me. None of them understand me. Not Trish, not Dez, not Austin.

_I fought dirty, I don't care_

_I left you choking on my dust_

_Don't think I don't know how it feels to be the one who wasn't tough_

_They wounded me; cut me down_

_I had to learn how not to bleed_

_You'll get your day, have no doubt_

_But know this race belongs to me_

_So na na na na na_

_You can't catch me_

_Na na na na na_

_You can't catch me_

_You can cry_

_You can scream_

_But na na na na na_

_You can't catch me_

As the last tones of the piano fade, I hear slow, confused clapping. I spin around. Austin is leaning in the doorway. I push back the piano bench and walk over to him, straightening my pink floral skirt. "What are you doing here?" I ask. My cheeks are hot.

"What's that song about?" he asks. For once, he is not laughing or smiling.

"I don't even know," I say helplessly.

He nods carefully. "Sorry to interrupt you. I left my wallet downstairs, and I heard you singing and I...I am just really sorry."

"It's OK," I say. But it really wasn't.

"And I found this," he says, holding out a gold necklace. "On the stairs."

My hands fly to my neck. I hadn't realized it was missing. I snatch it from his outstretched fingers. I push back my wavy brown hair, but my fumbling hands won't work the clasp. "Let me do it," Austin says, walking around behind me.

I freeze as he takes the ends of the chain from my fingers, scared that this will turn into one of those _moments. _

I really hate those _moments._


	2. Chapter 2 - 7:38

**A/N - I know these characters aren't exactly like the ones in the show. I tried to make them a little more realistic. A little. Because there's really no way you can make Dez realistic :) Also, Ally is acting very different, but please, please, PLEASE just go with it for now. I promise there's a story arc to my madness. **

* * *

I really hate those _moments._

For example, take Moment #1.

Oh sure, there were others before it. But a _slow dance?_ I know he was just being nice. I wasn't feeling too great. Dallas had been a jerk, at least in my mind at that time. Still, slow dances are not something friends usually...do.

_"Not you!" Austin says to Dez, in a slightly annoyed tone. "Ally!"_

_All of a sudden I'm not sure where to look. I glance to the right, then back at Austin, suddenly uncomfortable. I walk forward uncertainly as Austin hops down the stage with his broken leg. "Austin, what are you doing?" I say. "You're missing your chance with Emilio."_

_He looks at me, and he is serious. "It's more important that the coolest girl here finally gets her dance." _

_I swear I heard someone near us say, "Awwwwwww."_

_So then we dance. And the whole time, I'm smiling like an idiot. He's doing that smirk, the one that all his fans love. "Thanks, Austin," I say, still smiling. "This is so sweet." _

_Because it is. It really is. _

_He lets out a breath that sounds like part of a laugh. "K, ready? Time for the dip!" he says. I step away from him, then spin back in. Keeping his arm under my back, he supports me as I fall. His hands are warm._

_Then the air horn blows, and the moment is over. _

"Wow," Austin says. I can feel his breath on my neck as he bends over to fasten the necklace. "This clasp is really tiny."

I shift my feet impatiently. "You know what?" I say. "I don't think I want to wear it right now."

I turn around. He drops the chain into my outstretched hand. "Did you find your wallet?" I ask brusquely.

He stares at me with those puppy-brown eyes. "What is wrong with you?" he asks in an almost sad voice.

I put my hands on my hips. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah," he says, folding his arms. "Every since the album dropped, you've been acting really weird."

"Weird how?" I challenge him.

"You're meaner," he says stiffly. "You're moody. Grumpy. Pushy. I used to be able to make you smile. Now all I get is that look. Don't think Trish and Dez haven't noticed, because they have. You'd have to be blind not to notice, and we're not blind."

"I'm a sixteen year-old teenage girl," I say lightly. "Of course I'm moody." I cover the piano keys, then put the chain in the pocket of my brown leather jacket.

"Please, Ally," Austin begs. "You can trust me."

_You can trust me. _Coincidentally, this is exactly what he said before he let me fall during Moment #1. We stare at each other. "Do you not want to do this anymore?" he asks, finally breaking the silence. "Because that's OK. You can go write for Trent or whoever you want. I won't be mad at you. Your songs deserve better than me."

I bite my lip. As many times as I had thought it myself, it didn't sound as true coming from his mouth. "No, they don't," I say. "I wouldn't write for anyone else."

Really, I wouldn't. I just didn't know why.

He grins.

I sigh and walk towards the door. "I'm really tired, so could you...?"

"Of course," he says, walking with me. I walk faster. If he gets to the door first, he might open it for me, and that has moment potential. Unfortunately, his legs are longer. He beats me to the door by half a second. Opening it, he bows grandly. "Ladies first," he says.

I go through, holding back a sigh of relief when nothing weird happens. We walk down the stairs together. "It's fine if you don't want to tell me what's going on," he says. "But I hope you feel better soon."

I smile weakly. "Thanks, Austin."

* * *

Moment #2 was a bit more subtle.

It was really the first moment, at least chronologically. There had been a few small ones before it, like dancing in Sonic Boom, that could have been thought of as moments. But Moment #2 was the first one that had given me that feeling in my stomach.

We had been writing our first song together, sitting side by side at the piano late into the night. I was playing the bass clef. He was playing the treble. Then we both reached for the low G at the same time. Our hands touched. We looked at each other. We looked away.

A second. Moment #2 lasted for a second. And a second was enough for my stomach to twist itself into a Philadelphia pretzel. I had been smart enough not to let it happen again. But for a few weeks after, whenever I saw him, I would begin to theorize. What if we liked each other? What if we became a couple?

Then Dallas entered my life and Austin made it very clear that he thought of me only as a friend. So I thought we were normal. We were just friends; best friends. But those moments wouldn't stop happening.

* * *

I dust off the violin shelf, glancing at the clock. It's 7:38. I'm supposed to open Sonic Boom at 8. As always, my pulse begins to race. My throat tightens. This was when she came, at 7:38, and I don't want to think about her anymore. I'm not even wearing her necklace. After Austin left last night, I put it in a tiny box and shoved it in the back left corner of my closet. I really had been tempted to tell him, but it didn't feel fair. If I did decide to tell someone, he should not be the first.

My cell phone buzzes. I left it on silent. I frown. I really like hearing my ringtone, "Gone" by Switchfoot. I slide the phone out of the pocket of my baggy cargo shorts, checking the caller ID. It's Trish. I answer it. "Hey!" I say.

"So I have an idea." Trish wastes no time when she has a project. Which she doesn't, more often than not.

"What is it?" I ask, putting away the rag in a cabinet door near the cash register.

"You and Austin should date," she says.

I slam the door on my finger.


	3. Chapter 3 - Auslly

**A/N - Sorry for a slow chapter. And just in case you're wondering when the story is set, it's exactly where we are right now, after Crybabies & Cologne and before the Jessie crossover. **

* * *

"No way." Austin shakes his head emphatically. "There is no freaking way I'm going to pull a PR stunt like that."

I'm glad he's on my side. I reach for a fry with my right hand, forgetting that my pointer finger is cocooned in bandages. So I go for it with my left hand. "So that's the end of that," I say, right before biting into the soft, salty fry.

The food court is really busy. It's lunch hour.

Trish pulls the tray of food away from me. I whine a little. I didn't get to eat breakfast. She forces our copy of Cheetah Beat into my hands. "Look at this," she orders. "Austin's spread. Page sixteen."

I flip through the glossy pages. Austin leans over my shoulder so that he can see as well. _Why couldn't Trish have brought him his own copy?_ I think sourly. There are four pages featuring Austin and his crazy, made-up adventures. "Yeah, Trish," Austin says. "The article's still there."

"That's not the point," Trish huffs. "The point is that Ally is on every page."

"OK..." Austin says slowly. "So what?"

"Listen to some of the things people said online," she says, pulling a myTAB out of her sparkly backpack. She scrolls with her finger, reading the comments. "They are so cute together! Either Austin in Ally are in love, or they're totally crushing. I bet they're a couple, but they're keeping it private. Auslly forever! I would..."

"Auslly?" Austin scratches his beach-blond head.

"It's your mashup name," Trish explains.

I flip the magazine over so that I'm staring straight at the cover. It's Austin, with a goofy smile on his face, bungee jumping from a bridge. I'm behind him. That was Moment #3, or actually a little before it.

_"I don't know if I can go through with this," I say uncertainly. The wind whistles around my ears. Frightened, I hold onto the huge red thing that's pushing against my stomach, clutching it so tightly that my hands turn white. _

_"Hold my hand," Austin says confidently. "We'll jump together."_

_I don't even think about it. I just take his hand. Then I look down again. It's far. Really far. The Florida water is so murky that I'm not sure how deep it is. We could hit our heads on rocks hidden below the surface of the water and die. _

_"Give me a second to think about it," I say nervously._

_Austin squeezes my hand, a smile in his eyes. "Take all the time you need."_

_Pretzels. In my stomach. And not cause I am about to plummet a couple hundred feet to my death._

"So then what we'll have is a CD full of songs that two attractive people wrote together, inspired by love." Trish leans forward. "Wouldn't you want to buy it?"

"That's not the point." Austin leans forward too. "The point is that it's more lying. Ally's not cool with it, so neither am I."

Trish gives him a weird look.

"And," he corrects himself. "And neither am I."

"Morals." Trish shakes her head regretfully. "They ruin young stars. I prefer to live without them."

"Young stars?" Dez says, suddenly appearing with a clear plastic beach ball covered in multicolored butterflies. "But we need them to give light to the galaxy!"

"Morals," Trish says, rolling her eyes. Then she focuses back on Austin and me. "Suspiciously, you guys didn't have as many of them when you were inventing your fantastic lives for the sake of that annoying little reporter. How much more harm can this do to your consciences? At least dating is something normal people do, unlike eating bugs and jumping off bridges."

Austin and I look at each other. I look away first. "No," I say, determined to be firm. "I'm not going to do it."

"Then that's it." Austin stands up. "We're just going to have to find something else to make me more popular."

* * *

"How about we write a song about how much going back to school sucks?" Austin suggests, going over to the fridge.

Trish thought posting a new song and video online might help album sales. Austin going back to his roots or something like that. Dez was already ordering a wide selection of exotic animals. Trish was working somewhere. I hadn't heard the latest on her job situation. Austin and I were writing. Or starting to write.

"That might work," I say, in as positive a tone as I can.

He takes out a ziploc bag that's stuffed with pancakes. "Or one about having a crush," he says.

"Sounds good," I say, fiddling with my hair. _I really should straighten it. It's been a while. Trying something new could be fun, I guess. _

"Or we could record the song you were singing the other night..."

"That could..." I realize what he said. "What? No!"

"Come on, Ally." He takes a bite out of a cold pancake. "It was good!"

"It doesn't mean anything!" I protest.

"So what?" He crouches down, searching the lower shelves of the fridge. "Got any syrup?"

"So a song should mean something." I begin to braid a few strands of hair. "And no, I don't."

"You should get some," he says, standing up. "And a song doesn't have to mean something. It can just BE."

"It's not really your style," I say, holding out a hand. Throwing a pancake like it's a Frisbee, he lands it right in my hand.

"I don't have a style," he says with food in his mouth.

_Gross._

I laugh harshly. "Yes. Yes you do. They're all about fun, unimportant, fluffy things like girls and beaches and having the time of your life. That's who you are." I take a bite of pancake. It really does need syrup.

Austin is shocked. "You think that's who I am? After all this time, that's all you know about me?"

I'm not sure how to answer. I concentrate very hard on chewing.

"Look, Ally," he says, spreading his hands out. "You don't think I'm sick of singing about all that stuff? The only reason I do it is because that's what people expect from me. Do you think Justin Bieber made it big by singing about injustice in the world? No. He sang about girls. It's what my fans want to hear. It's what I give them. But it's not working now! No one is buying the album! So now I'm willing and ready to try something different. Where's the song?"

I gesture towards the stack of papers in the corner, literally speechless. _Maybe I've been too hard on him. At least on his musical style. _

Austin reads the bridge aloud.

_Then maybe someday when you look back on the lessons that I taught_

_You'll understand my reasons why; you'll understand that you got_

_Caught up in the chance I had to take, I knew I might be hurting you_

_Life's not fair. Sometimes you lose. And this is one I can't afford to._

"This is genius," he says, his eyes scanning the paper again. "And it totally means something. Please, let me sing it."

"Fine," I say quickly, before he can get down on his knees to beg and turn this into something really awkward. "You can sing it."


	4. Chapter 4 - November 13

**A/N - So I'm switching viewpoints now. I'll do it as often as I think the story needs, but we'll still have more of Ally's perspective than Austin's. I think.**

**So here we go. Austin's P.O.V. **

* * *

Austin Moon. So far I've had several people ask me if it's a stage name, because it rolls off the tongue really well or something. I guess they're right. Moon sounds better at the end of my name than at the front of the sign for my parent's mattress store.

But apart from a fantastic name, I really had nothing before I met Ally. I could play almost every instrument known to man. I could sing a little. I could dance pretty well. Dez was a good friend. My parents loved me. None of it had been enough to put me over the top, to drive me to make it on my own.

Then I went into Sonic Boom. I played the drums with corn dogs. Ally came over to kick me out. She was so cute and so tiny and so furious. I heard her sing. I stole her song. I really didn't mean to. She just knew how to express the things I felt in a way that made me feel like I was the one who had written them down. I apologized. We teamed up.

Enter Dallas. I had been so young then. Ally and I had really just met. I had meant what I said then, about not wanting to jeopardize our friendship. Every night before I go to bed, I wonder if I still mean it now.

I don't think I do.

My phone vibrates. It's a text from Dez. _How'd songwriting go? _he asks. _Fix her yet?_

I text back. _We have a song. Don't know what to fix._

_Too bad :( How do you feel about working with gorillas?_

_Not so good._

_Too late._

I chuckle to myself. Then I set the phone on the table by my bed. I have to figure out what's wrong with Ally. She needs my help as much as I need hers. I think back, far back. Because she didn't act this way right after the album released in October. It happened in early November, when Trent was creating all those problems. Then, after Trent, she started to pull away.

I have a calendar hanging on my wall, next to my shelf of stuffed animals. I rarely use the calendar now, except to mark stuff like birthdays and holidays.

_November 13. _The day after the Wanda Watson show. It is circled in purple, because it's Dez's birthday. We had all planned a surprise party for him; me and my parents, Ally, Trish and her parents, Dez's parents. We always did. But this time, we planned it in the morning, because we knew he wouldn't be expecting it. Trish kept Dez occupied around the mall while the rest of us went to his house to set up and decorate. Ally didn't show up. I texted her. She texted back, saying that she had to open Sonic Boom, wait for her dad to take over, and then she would come.

She never did.

I must have called her fifty times and texted her at least eighty, but she didn't respond. So I put on a good face for Dez, but inside I was slowly going crazy worrying about her.

I went to her house that night.

_Light pours from Ally's window. I feel a tiny bit better. Lester answers the door. He looks as worried as I feel. "Is Ally alright?" I ask quickly._

_"She won't come out of her room," Lester says, despair in his voice. "I don't know why. I can hear her crying, but she won't talk to me. Do you think she'll talk to you?"_

_"Maybe," I say. I thought we were close enough for that. After all, I had been the first person she told about the reason for her stage fright. I was the one to comfort her about Dallas. The idiot. I would never tell Ally how much I had hated him. She had been so supportive of Cassidy and Brooke; I couldn't do that to her. I wasn't even sure why I hated Dallas so much. _

_But I did. I hated his face. _

_"Come in," Lester invites, opening the door wider._

_Ally's room is on the first floor, down the hallway past the kitchen, second door on the left. I pause outside, listening. She has stopped crying, at least audibly. She probably heard my voice. I knock. "Yes?" she calls out. Her voice is shaking uncontrollably. _

_"It's me," I say. "It's Austin."_

_"I don't want to talk right now," she says._

_There's a small, sharp pain in my chest. Really, I shouldn't have expected her to make an exception for me. After all, she didn't even want to talk to her dad. "What happened?" I ask desperately._

_"I. Don't. Want. To Talk. Right. Now." She punctuates every word like she's stabbing it with a pin._

_So I leave the house. But the window is so bright, I know she's inside, and it's just too tempting. I go over to look, praying that she's not changing or something. She's not. She's sitting on the floor, a small mountain of tissues at her right side. She's just staring; staring at the gold necklace that's dangling from her hands. _

Taking a marker from my desk, I draw a sad face on November 13, right in the middle of the big purple circle.

Then my phone rings. It's Heartbeat, by Austin Moon. I still grin every time I hear one of my songs. It's a stupid and stuck-up thing to do, but I can't help it. A picture of a petite, brown-haired girl lights up the screen. I pick it up faster than a lightning strike. "Hey," I begin carefully. "What's up?"

"I'll do it," she says.

"Huh?"

"I'll be your fake girlfriend for the fans."

I bite my lip. "Are you sure? Because if you don't want to do it, you know no one's making you. Besides, if it bothers you to lie..."

"Does it bother you?" she asks.

"Not as much as it should," I say honestly.

"So you were only objecting because of how you thought I would feel about it?" The question feels like a challenge.

"Kind of," I say nervously.

My career is important to me. But Ally is always more important. Always. And so I've told her, plenty of times, but she never seems to catch on.

"That's very nice of you," she says in a deadpan voice. "Thanks. But I'm ready to do it now. There's really no other choice."

"Why'd you change your mind?"

For a few moments, there is silence on the other end of the phone. "It's not important," she finally says, then she hangs up.

I leave the phone at my ear as I stare at the calendar. At November 13. "It's going to be OK, Ally," I whisper to no one. "You're going to be fine. I'll make sure of it."


	5. Chapter 5 - Totally Weird (Purple)

**A/N - Things are about to get INSANE! There's TWO new characters! Well, kind of.**

**Back to Ally's P.O.V.**

* * *

Austin Moon's girlfriend.

I suppose there are worse things I could have to be; worse things I could have to do for him. It's really not that bad. We'll just have to take a few photographs in some public place, of us holding hands or licking ice cream or something. That'll be enough. Then she'll see that she was wrong.

I hope.

I'm only doing it for her. Not for Austin. For her.

No. Pretending to date Austin won't be that bad. It'll just be...weird. Which brings me to Moment #4.

_"I don't know why Trish didn't tell me," I say, setting down the minuscule carton of fries. "Were supposed to be best friends._

_"She probably feels weird about it," Austin says. _

_His hair is covering his eyes. I get the strange urge to fix it._

_"You know," he continues. "Cause it's weird."_

_"What if they break up?" I resist the urge to sit on my hands. "How are we going to work together or be friends together?"_

_"I just don't want it to change the way the four of us hang out."_

_"They'd feel the same way if we were dating."_

_I can't believe I just said that. A nervous bubble of panic rises to my throat. How's he going to react? Is he going to think I mean that we should date? Or that we shouldn't date because it would change us? You're overreacting. He's not thinking any of that. Or is he? I don't know!_

_His eyes widen and he blinks twice rapidly. "Me and you?" he asks incredulously._

_See. Nothing to worry about. He thinks the idea is ridiculous._

_"That would be weird," he says, half laughing-half wheezing._

_I laugh too, hoping it doesn't sound too forced. "Really weird."_

_We both look away. I try to imagine dating him. I mean, as far as looks go I would have nothing to complain about. Beach-blond hair. Warm eyes. Blinding smile. And he's a really considerate guy, most of the time. And he's funny and sweet and nice, but..._

_But nothing._

_I hate that I can't think of a reason that I don't like him. I hope it doesn't mean that I do. _

_We both turn back. _

_"Yeah, weird," he says, at the same time that I say, "Totally weird."_

_It's nice to know we're on the same page. _

* * *

"OK," I say, handing the plan to Trish. "Here's what happens. We go out on a few 'dates,' get spotted, have our pictures taken and make sure they appear in some slutty tabloids. Then, we have Starr Records pull their weight and get Austin on a few more talk shows, where he'll talk about how happy we are together and how we inspire each other and all that stuff. After that, we should probably record that duet that we sang at the record release party, and then some kind of love ballad. Get those out, and I think we're all set for a dramatic break-up that leaves Austin's fame well on its way."

"Sounds great," Trish says, clearly more focused on her magazine than on what I'm saying.

Austin yawns. There are big, dark circles under his eyes. "There's a party," he says sleepily. "I was invited to Shayla Woods' birthday party. We can make our first appearance there."

"Who's Shayla Woods?" Trish asks. "And why are you so sleepy?"

"She's Jimmy Starr's granddaughter." Austin rubs his forehead. "She's apparently a really big fan. Of me. Text Megan and there'll be a swarm of photographers there. I'm tired because I didn't get enough sleep."

"Duh." Trish rolls her eyes. "Ally will totally need a makeover."

"Sure," I say.

The two of them stare at me like my nose just turned blue. "What?" I ask slowly.

"I ask you like, every week to let me give you a makeover," Trish says.

"So?"

"So you're acting wayyyyyy different."

"People change, Trish," I say harshly.

"Not that fast."

Austin intervenes. "So give me more info on this party," he says.

As Trish begins to explain, I stare off across the food court. The cell phone accessory cart is directly in my line of vision. _Dallas. _I hadn't seen him since he went to work at the library. Our relationship was kind of weird. He never asked me out. I thought he liked me. Isn't that what a guy does when he likes a girl? He asks her out? Maybe what she said was right. Maybe I'm never...

No. Don't think about her. She's gone now. For good.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Austin watching me look at the cell phone accessory cart. He's got a really weird expression on his face that I can't interpret. "What do you think?" Trish asks suddenly.

"Purple," Austin says.

"About what?" I ask absentmindedly.

"You two are going to have to match at Shayla's party," Trish says in a businesslike way. "What colors do you think you guys should wear? "

"Purple sounds fine," I say.

Purple is my favorite color.

"Look," Trish points at a picture in her magazine. "A.A. Sterling wore purple to her last movie premiere."

Austin whistles. "She's so hot, for an old lady."

She's actually not that old. She's only thirty-seven. But I'm not going to complain if Austin wants to make fun of her. She deserves it.

"Don't you wanna look, Ally?" Trish asks, waving the magazine at me.

"No," I say, a bit more sharply than I mean to. "I don't care."

Austin's head snaps up. Trish gives me a pointed glare. "Fine. Whatever." She snaps the magazine shut. "I'm going home," she announces, standing up and stalking away.

"Ally..." Austin begins. He moves a hand towards my shoulder.

"Shut up, Austin," I say, pushing the hand away. "Just shut up."

I leave him behind me. I know he is watching me walk away. I know that he only wants to help me. But he can't. He needs to learn to leave me alone.

Did I mention how much I hate the color purple?

* * *

**A/N - P.S. - What do YOU think is wrong with Ally? Review and tell me :)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Freaking Gorgeous

**A/N - Is it weird that naming a chapter equals almost half the fun of writing it? Anyway, I hope you guys don't get annoyed by my extremely short chapters. It's so I can write them more often and so that I don't get exhausted in this whole process.**

**And the P.O.V. goes to...Austin Moon!**

* * *

I spray my hair one last time. Hair is, by far, the most important aspect of any celebrity. Zac Efron. Taylor Swift. Justin Bieber. Trademark styles. My hair has to be perfect. There is no excuse. My hair has been shampooed and conditioned, then blow dried for extra volume. My bangs are carefully combed across my forehead.

Girls aren't the only ones who obsess over their hair.

I'm wearing a dark gray suit with a cobalt blue tie. My favorite whistle is tucked underneath my white dress shirt. It was my dad's when he was a kid. I found it in the bottom drawer of his dresser one day and asked if I could have it.

I stare at myself in the mirror. I look polished and confident.

I take a deep breath. Pretending with Ally would have been easy, a few months ago when it felt like she actually liked me. Now, it will be hard to fake chemistry. _Shut up, _she had said. _Shut up. _I'd never heard her say that before. To anyone. Coming from her mouth, it almost equaled profanity.

My mother knocks on the door. I know it's her. She has a very specific way of knocking. Two soft taps, then, if I don't respond, one loud rap. I open the door before she can pound on it. She clasps her hands. "You look so handsome," she croons. "Just like a prince."

Yeah. Moon's Mattress Kingdom.

"Thanks, Mom," I say.

"I can't believe you and Ally are dating," she gushes. "I always thought you and she would make a good couple, but I never thought it would actually happen..."

If the rest of the world was anything like my mother, stores wouldn't be able to keep my album on the shelves. "I never thought it would happen either, Mom," I say seriously.

"When did you first start to like her?" Mom asks eagerly.

I had thought about this. It would be Question #1 from all the reporters. "When she almost left for New York," I say. "As soon as she told me she was leaving, I just knew. I couldn't be without her."

We had told everyone we were dating. No one knew it was fake except me, Ally, Trish and Dez. Trish thought it would be easier that way. I didn't.

I preferred to lie as little as possible.

* * *

Ally's house was dark. First I rang the doorbell. Then I knocked. Then I yelled. She didn't come to the door. Finally, I just tried the knob. The door was open. I walked inside cautiously. "Ally?" I call, squinting into the dark. "We have to go!"

Stumbling around, I find the light switch. The living room is empty. I go to her room. It is dark as well, except for the sliver of light that shines from under the bathroom door. I don't even bother knocking. I just go in.

Ally is sitting on the side of the tub in her long, flowing, one-shouldered blue dress. Her dark, wavy hair is swept up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She's crying. The salty liquid flowing down her cheeks leaves trails in her makeup. "Ally," I gasp, running over to her and grabbing her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't answer me. She stands up and swipes a hand across her mouth. I don't let go. "Tell me," I order angrily, ready to break some bones.

"Nothing," she says quietly. "It's silly."

"I don't care," I say. "Tell me."

Silence.

"Now," I order.

"Someone said I was ugly," she chokes out. "And I know they're right."

My mouth drops open. Honestly, sometimes she really makes me want to slap her. And not a nice, playful slap, but the kind that causes serious brain damage. "Who said that to you?" I ask, my face heating with anger.

"It doesn't matter," she says.

"It'll matter to the person whose neck I'm going to snap," I say, feeling my jaw tighten.

She shivers. "Let's just go."

"Not yet," I say. I draw her close to me, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her head against my shoulder. "The person who said that," I whisper in her ear. "Is either blind or the biggest moron every to torture the face of the planet. You're not pretty. You're not beautiful. You're freaking gorgeous."

Ally sighs shakily. "Really?" she asks tearfully.

"Yep," I say cheerfully. "Even when you're determined to make everyone else around you really mad. So if the guy who called you ugly ever gets within a hundred feet of you again, call me so I can punch him in the face. Or you can do it yourself. Just so long as he gets hurt."

"She."

"Huh?"

"He was a she."

"Oh." I file this information away in my mind. "I guess you'll have to do it then. I really don't know if I'm OK with hitting a girl."

"Don't worry about it. I doubt she'll show up again," Ally says, with a weird note of sadness that has nothing to do with the fact that she was crying alone in a bathroom in the dark a few moments before.

"Good," I say firmly. "Now where's Trish? She's not going to be happy when she sees what you've done to your makeup."

Ally laughs. "I'll fix it myself," she says. She lifts her head. Her eyes are huge. Our lips are inches apart. I take a breath, then release her and step away, because I get the feeling that I was about to do something insanely stupid.

"I'll go wait in the living room," I say.

* * *

The party is at the South Tides, the classiest beachside hotel in Miami. I park the car in front of the valet station. A man in a dark red uniform rushes out to us. In the passenger seat, Ally fidgets with her dress. Her face has been freshly coated with makeup. "Are you going to be OK?" I ask. "If you want to debut our relationship another time, I totally understand."

"No," she says sharply, almost angrily. "We're doing this tonight."

I glance toward the left. There's a small battalion of reporters waiting by the shiny glass doors. They're snapping pictures of a sophisticated man in a tuxedo. The valet opens the door for Ally.

I get out of my car, walking around the front to join her. Like I've done it a thousand times, I slide my arm around her slender waist.

I can feel Ally taking deep, panicked breaths.

"Freaking gorgeous," I remind her softly.

Together, we face the glass doors and the flashing lights.


	7. Chapter 7 - A A Sterling

**A/N - And the P.O.V. remains with Austin.**

* * *

"Oh my gosh!" A girl in a short, buttercup-yellow dress prances over to us, in a state of nervous excitement. "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! You're Austin Moon!"

"Yes," I say, in what I hope is a modest tone.

"I'm Shayla," she babbles. "And I think you're so amazing!"

"Thank you," I say.

"Who's this?" Shayla turns a jealous eye on the girl I still have my arm around.

"This is Ally Dawson," I say, releasing her. "My girlfriend."

"Nice to meet you," Ally nods, smiling graciously. I'm amazed at how well she's managed to keep her composure. "Happy fifteenth birthday."

"You have a girlfriend!" Shayla shrieks. "Why didn't I know?"

Ally flinches. I resist the urge to cover my ears. Her voice grates. I glance toward Mr. Starr, hoping that Shayla won't go into a jealous fit of rage.

"That's so cute!" she squeals instead. "I remember you now! You're the girl from the magazine! The one who writes his songs!"

I had to get away from that voice.

"You guys are like, my heroes," she babbles. "It's so awesome, the whole teamwork thing, and now you're in love..."

"Excuse us," I say abruptly. "We have to go...talk to Mr. Starr about our next album."

"A new album! That's awesome! I can't wait for it..."

Her voice fades in the distance as we move away.

"Well, she's pleasant to listen to," Ally says grimly.

I laugh.

The large room is dimly lit. The left wall is entirely a mirror, like you would see in a dance studio. A large table to the right is covered in platters of food. There's a dance floor. A few couples twirl around it to the latest Bruno Mars ballad. There's not many people here. It's a very private party. "Are you hungry?" I ask, trying to fill the silence.

"Not really," she says.

I don't ask her to dance. I get the feeling that it would be weird. Besides, there's no reporters here. We don't have to pretend, not like we did when we arrived.

My mind flashes back to the scene in the bathroom, before I had backed away. I think now that I was about to kiss her. But why would I do that? It's disgusting, like wanting to kiss your sister or something. I blame it on my emotions. I got confused, because I was so angry and she was so sad.

Yeah. I was confused.

* * *

We're all sitting in the music room for our Team Austin meeting. It's Sunday afternoon, the day after Shayla's party. Ally sits primly on the piano bench. She seems a little better, but she's got that look on her face like she wants to kill something. It's hard to imagine the same girl crying.

"Good job, guys," Trish says, typing something into the search engine. It's our names. Austin Moon and Ally Dawson. She hits enter, and a million pictures of us arriving at the party pop up. There's a video. She clicks on it, and the video enlarges and begins to play.

The boy and girl on the bright screen do not resemble Ally and I at all. These two people are clearly in love. The couple is just past security. There's a hotel attendant standing nearby who's supposed to be opening the door, but the stylishly dressed blond boy runs ahead and opens it first. Standing tall, he waits there for the brunette girl. She reaches the door, but just before she passes through it, she stands on her tiptoes, putting a hand on the boy's chest. She kisses his cheek. Then she goes through. For a moment, the blond boy is frozen with shock. His mask is broken. Then his face relaxes. He runs through the door, wrapping his arm around the girl's waist once again. She looks up at him, with an expression of absolute trust and contentment on her face.

That's us. I can't believe it.

"Wow," Trish says with a touch of respect. "Just...wow. You guys deserve an Oscar or something. You look like you're ready to walk down the aisle."

Ally and I don't respond.

Dez, who is dressed in Christmas clothes before Thanksgiving, pops his head up. "Trish," he says. "You and I should fake date."

Trish ignores him. "Hey," she says suddenly, clicking on something. "A.A. Sterling tweeted one of your pics!"

If I hadn't been looking at Ally, I wouldn't have seen what happened next. No one else noticed. All the blood drained from her face. She clenched her hands. Her jaw tightened. She swallowed. "What did she say?" she asks.

"She said, _So sweet of Austin to go out with a girl like that." _Trish's eyes narrow. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?" she says, looking up at Ally.

Something clicks in my brain.

"I don't know," Ally says.

Ally has never been the best of liars, especially when she has something she desperately wants to hide.

"I have to use the bathroom," I say suddenly. I jump up like my pants are on fire, run out the door, down the hallway, and to the small, private bathroom on the second floor. I put the seat cover down and sit on the toilet.

_A.A. Sterling, _I type into the internet app on my phone.

The results come up. I click one of the pictures, then put my face close to the small screen and study the face of the celebrity. I start to see things I hadn't before. Slowly, I slide my wallet out of my pocket. There's a picture of the me, Ally, Dez and Trish inside, eating ice cream at the beach. I look back and forth from A.A. Sterling to Ally Dawson until I'm dizzy.

Dark brown hair.

Alabaster skin.

Delicate nose.

Eyes, set deep.

I drop the phone and the wallet at the same time.

_They're related._


	8. Chapter 8 - He's Just Like Me

**Ally's P.O.V.**

* * *

Austin knows something.

I know he knows something.

The rest of the day, he wouldn't stop staring at me. And it wasn't a flattering stare, or a confused stare. It was a cold, calculating stare, like he was assessing me from all angles. It's uncomfortable. But I ignore it for now. I try to be nicer to Trish and to Dez, because they really don't have anything to do with this.

It's between me, Austin, and _her._

After Team A leaves, I drive home with dad, go straight to my room, lock the door, and take out my brown, leather songbook, which doubles as my journal. I sit on my beanbag, and for a few moments, I stare it. Then, slowly, I flip it open. To November 13.

I let myself remember.

_"Hurry up, Dad." I adjust the phone at my ear. "I have to leave for Dez's party."_

_"I'm so sorry, honey," he says. "There was a mixup with some of the instruments I ordered. I have to get it straightened out, now."_

_"You have to?" I sigh._

_"Do you want to eat?"_

_I giggle. "Yes."_

_"Then I have to fix it now," he says. "See you in about an hour."_

_"Alright, Dad. Bye."_

_"Bye."_

_I set the phone on the counter, then go over to the piano. I've been working on this one song for a long time. It's about Austin. It's about all those moments where I'm not sure exactly what happened._

I don't get you

The words you say, and the things that you do

I've got it worked out

But then you raise more doubt

And I'm left guessing

And reassessing all that you are

Tell me why you're making this so hard

Cause I'm getting mixed signals

Getting mixed signals

From you

_It's another one of those not a love song songs. I think._

_I work on it for a while, fleshing out the melody and finding just the right combination of short and long notes. It's really fun to sing, and before long I'm breathless. Then someone knocks on the door. I check the clock. It's only 7:38. No one should be here yet. The store doesn't open until eight._

_But there she is. Waiting outside the doors of Sonic Boom. A 37 year-old woman in black skinny jeans, a sparkly silver tank top and pumps. A. A. Sterling. Star of screen and song. The total package. For a while, I'm shocked and unable to move. She knocks again, impatiently. I stumble to my feet, lurching over to the door and unlocking it._

_"What are you doing here?" I stutter._

_"What?" she asks, sauntering inside. "A mother isn't allowed to visit her own daughter?"_

_"You're not my mother," I say._

_"Your DNA would suggest otherwise," she says. "But no one would think it by looking at you."_

_"What makes you think you can come here like this?" I ask. "All I get from you is an email each year on my birthday. That was what you and my parents agreed on when they adopted me. You know, limited communication to keep me from feeling unwanted. Which I was."_

_"Ally, dear," she says, reaching a hand toward me._

_I back away. "What are you doing here?" I repeat firmly. _

_Reaching into her black leather purse, she produces a magazine. Cheetah Beat. "I saw your name in here. I realized that you were sixteen, and I was curious. I wanted to see how you'd turned out, in person. And once I set my mind on something, I can't rest until I've satisfied it."_

_"I really don't have time to satisfy you're fidgety mind," I say, holding open the door for her to leave. "I'm very busy."_

_"So am I." She flips her perfectly curled brown hair over her shoulder. "But I made time for you."_

_"Why should I tell you anything?" I ask heatedly. _

_"Because I'll do something for you," she says. "Whatever is in my power."_

_It's tempting. And I fall for it. I fold my arms. "Fine."_

_She leads me over to the benches and we sit down. "Now," she says, crossing her legs pompously. "What do you like to do?"_

_For about fifteen minutes, we go through my likes and dislikes. It's very surreal. It feels more like a formal interview than a heart to heart conversation. Which is fine with me. She has no right to expect emotion from me. She gave up her child in favor of her burgeoning career. She's going to live with it. _

_"Now, Austin Moon," she says, tapping the front of the magazine. "Does he know you like him?"_

_"Whaaaaaaat?" I try to look incredulous. "I don't like him!"_

_"Really?" She arches a delicate eyebrow. "Because you say his name in every other sentence."_

_"No, I don't," I say._

_"Your face gets pink, and you blink really fast."_

_Talking boys with my estranged celebrity birth mother? I don't think so. Even if she's right, it still doesn't matter. She doesn't get to have this conversation, but she did make me realize something..._

_Austin Moon._

_I like him._

_The blond boy with brown eyes who loves pancakes and stuffed animals, who can sing and play a million different instruments, but who can't write a song to save his life. Who will dance with me and hold my hand. Who thinks I'm awesome. Who would do anything for me._

_I like him._

_Honestly, why wouldn't I?_

_"I knew it!" Sterling crows. "You _do _like him."_

_I nod. _

_"Oh, honey," she laughs. "You are in for a lot of heartbreak." She leans over and pats my arm. "Trust me. I understand how this kind of thing works. It hurts. I hurt other people in the same way. It's just the way the business goes."_

_"What are you talking about?" I ask, sincerely confused. I slide her hand off my arm. _

_"You're a very talented songwriter," she says. "You're the only reason he's as famous as he is now. Do you think he doesn't know that? He's the hook, the player, the scumbag, the net."_

_"I still don't understand."_

_She sighs impatiently. "He doesn't care about you! He just cares about your songs! Let me guess; he gives you romantic looks, and tells you you're amazing and special. But does he want to date you? No. I bet he's dated other girls. I think I saw something about one of them in the tabloids the other day. Her name was Brooke, wasn't it? He's stringing you along, making you think he likes you when all he really cares about is his career. I was the same way. Your father was the son of a powerful producer. I was twenty-one and had dreams bigger than the sky. It's why you were born."_

_I shake my head, nearly falling off the bench in my effort to get away from her and her horrible, horrible words. "No," I say. "No. No. You don't know him. He cares about me. He cares for me."_

_"I do know him, Ally," Sterling says grimly. "He's just like me."_

* * *

**A/N - Please review. It makes me happy :)**


	9. Chapter 9 - Gold Necklace

_I shouldn't believe her. _

_Except that, deep within myself, I have doubts about our relationship. I had always wondered why Austin and I were friends. It just didn't seem to work. He was so popular and cool and handsome. I was shy and awkward and plain. We hated what each other loved and loved what each other hated. We were a perfect match, or so I had made myself believe, when in reality we were only a blatant contradiction. _

_Sterling stands up slowly, seeming afraid that she has scared me off. "I care about you, Ally," she says. "Even if I am not your mother. You're brilliant, and smart and talented, even if you're not pretty, and I mean that as a good thing."_

_Ouch._

_She takes a step. "Stars always need people like you. Actors need their screenwriters. Singers need their songwriters. I just hate to see someone like you, with so much talent, swallowed up in another's shadow. You're destined to be famous. It's in your blood. Don't let him keep you from it."_

_"What if I don't want to be famous?" I ask._

_"Don't be ridiculous." Her laugh sounds like a sleigh bell. "Everyone wants to be famous."_

_"Not me."_

_She gives me a sweeping glance, examining me from head to toe. "So you're investing your time, energy and emotions in a guy who doesn't like you, with no personal aspirations whatsoever. Why?"_

_"I believe in him," I say quietly._

_"How sweet," she says sarcastically. "And selfless."_

_I say nothing._

_I'm beginning to see how ridiculous our whole relationship is. How unbalanced and off-center. How one-sided. He does a nice thing for me every once in a while, and in return I act like I'm his personal slave. And those moments; they were all to keep me in line. Keep me tied down to him. He tells me he'd sacrifice his career for me, but his career never actually suffers. Why is that? It's almost like he's using me. _

_He's using me._

_"I'm sorry, Ally," Sterling says gently. _

_"What should I do?" I ask dumbly, hardly able to move. _

_"Use him back," she says._

_I shake my head. "I can't do that."_

_"Why not?" she asks. "What has he ever done for you, besides make you his grateful sidekick?"_

_I'm silent again. "I don't know," I say finally, my voice unsteady. "I just can't. It would be wrong."_

_"I can't believe you're my daughter," she says, taking a mirror out of her purse and checking her reflection, even though there's no one here but us. "It must be the people who raised you. Did they forget to give you a spine? You probably couldn't fight back if you tried. You'd have to get him to fall in love with you. Are you even capable of that? Making him love you?" She applies a thick layer of gloss to her full lips. _

_I'm too confused to be angry. "Why do you care?" I ask. _

_She shrugs. "I told you. I care about you."_

_"I want a better reason," I say._

_Sterling takes the last step forward, and we're standing face to face. Her perfectly made-up eyes are sad. "Because after hearing you talk about him," she says. "I realize that I was someone's Austin. I can't go back and fix that. But I can fix this, now. I can save you from what happened to your father."_

_"What did happen to him?" I breathe._

_"Nothing," she says. "He died a few months later in a car accident, his heart still broken from what I had done to him. But your heart is still whole. I understand now that you're not going to turn on him, you're going to let him pull you down. Just pray that it doesn't hurt too much when he leaves you alone."_

_"You have to go," I say, not because she does, but because I'm about to cry and I don't want her to see me cry. "I have to open the store."_

_"Alright," she says. Then she pulls a small, velvet box from her bag. "But I have something for you." She hands the box to me, then puts her hands on my shoulders. "Goodbye, Ally," she says. "If you need more advice, just email me."_

_"OK," I whisper brokenly._

_I keep my head down until the door closes behind her. Then I slide to the ground. The tears start, pouring down my face like a waterfall. They don't stop._

Slowly, I close the book. Then, I walk over to the closet, take out the box and stare at the necklace. It's beautiful; a delicate gold chain with a pendant in the shape of a music note. It's the only real present I ever received from my biological mother.

The rest of November 13 I spent mostly just staring at the necklace in my room and crying. I couldn't tell whether I was crying over Austin, having an extreme emotional reaction to seeing my biological mother, or just exhausted. My phone must have buzzed about a million times that day, but I didn't even look at it. I knew I should have told Trish and Austin that I couldn't make it to Dez's party, but any communication with them would seem so fake. I just couldn't handle it.

But the next day, I had to go to school, and I had to see them all. It was a disaster. I couldn't even be around Austin now. I doubted every word, every action, every glance. Nothing he did was sincere. It couldn't be, because I saw now that it was as she said. He was using me. I was silent and sullen.

Then, when I couldn't even handle that, I began lashing out. And not just at Austin, who definitely deserved it, but at everyone else around me. Yet this whole thing wasn't some great mystery to me; I knew what I was doing every time I opened my mouth, and I knew why I was doing it

He had hurt me.

The day I realized I liked him was the day I realized he had hurt me.

The problem was, I couldn't make the liking stop, no matter how hard I tried. Even while I believed that every kind gesture was part of an underhanded scheme to keep me writing his songs, I still liked him, and I knew I wasn't strong enough to leave him. Yet. That was why I had eventually decided to act the part of his girlfriend; to play the game, to use him, to prove Sterling wrong.

He'd make me famous as the girl who inspired him. When that happened, I would leave him and start my own career. It was foolproof. But he made it so hard...

For example, the scene in the bathroom. I had looked at myself, and I had thought about what Sterling had said. I wasn't pretty. Which meant that I was ugly. Then he had told me I was gorgeous and we had almost kissed. My mind told me he just wanted to get me in good shape to play the part that night. It told me that he was only trying to fix me because he wanted good songs. It told me I was being used.

But my heart made me forget all that. Every time.


	10. Chapter 10 - Interview

**Austin's P.O.V.**

* * *

My eyes are watering like crazy, but I can't stop. I've been on the computer for hours, trying to find a concrete connection between A. A. Sterling and Ally Dawson. So far, I've found nothing that tells me they're related. My stomach rumbles. I check my watch. It's almost three in the morning. _One more site, _I tell myself, rubbing my bleary eyes. _Then I'll go to bed._

Trish would be angry with me. When I'm tired, it shows. I'm grumpy, and the circles under my eyes are like black holes. I had to leave the house at six. A TV station in Boca Raton wanted me and Ally to appear on their show to talk about the album, a.k.a. our new relationship. Shayla's party had gone down a week ago, and the pictures were all over every celebrity news site. I kept running across them in my research.

Which I felt like I hadn't stopped since first realizing that Ally and Sterling were related. First, I had looked for hospital records, but none of them were open to the public. Then I had checked all the tabloid and magazine sites to see whether any of them had discovered anything about their connection. Now I was just looking for anything with their names together. So far, the only thing I had turned up was the twit, which I had stared at until it felt like my eyes were about to fall out.

It was hopeless, but I couldn't stop.

I missed her. Really badly. I was still with her all the time; we had gone on another date together as part of our facade. But it was all too clear to me that not just was she being fake for the sake of playing my girlfriend, but she was faking with me all the time, even when we were alone. Sometimes, I would catch her glaring at me. Other times, I caught her looking at me with an expression of despair that was painful to see.

I click on the last Sterling fan site. It's got an interesting link; places where Sterling has been recently spotted. And here, I finally find what I'm looking for. Scanning down the list, I see that Sterling was in Miami on November 13.

Satisfied, I lean back in my swivel chair and close my eyes.

I'm in this game now.

* * *

Trish shrieks. "Austin!" She grabs my face, and tilts it in every direction, examining me with horrified eyes. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I couldn't sleep," I say, barely able to keep my lids open.

"I'll say," she whistles. "The make-up artists will have a fun time trying to get rid of those circles."

"Wanted to give them something to do," I say.

"Are you OK?" Ally asks. Then she seems to remember that she's not supposed to be concerned. "I...uh...you need to look good," she says lamely.

"I'm fine," I assure, looking down at her. She's chose the dress that she was wearing when we practiced dancing for Trish's party in the music room. Her makeup is light, simple and pretty. "You look good," I say truthfully.

"Thanks." Her voice is deadpan.

She's like an iceberg.

But when we get into the studio with the host, she's a puddle of sunshine. She snuggles against me while we're being interviewed, smiles through every word she says, and laughs at every joke I make. I smile and laugh too, and keep an arm around her. The host and the audience are eating it up.

"So," the host says near the end of the interview. "You guys are getting a lot of attention from the media because of your relationship. How does that affect you?"

I keep a humble smile plastered on my face. "It hasn't really bothered us yet. We're not doing this for them." I glance at Ally affectionately.

"No, we're not," she says warmly, looking at me as well. "We're just happy to be with each other."

The audience sighs. "I hope you're together for a long time," the host says, standing up. "But unfortunately, _our _time together is up." He shakes our hands. "Thanks for coming on the show today."

"You're welcome, sir," I say.

"And we're clear!" a technician shouts.

Instant iceberg.

Ally walks off the set without another glance at me. "What's wrong with her?" the host asks.

I shrug. "Women."

"Amen," he says.

* * *

"Sorry," Trish says. "Can't do it. I promised my cousins I'd visit them for the rest of the day."

"But you knew I was driving up with you!" Ally wails. "How am I supposed to get home?"  
"I could take you," I offer.

She ignores this, turning to Dez. He puts up his hands. "Sorry, Ally. I'm staying up here too. There's a very important comic book auction that I have to attend."

"Fine," she grumbles, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the parking lot. "Let's go."

I follow her, pleased, strangely, just by the fact that she's touching me. We get in the car. I start the engine. She turns on the radio immediately, and a J-Lo song comes on. I sing along, humoring her for a while, but then we get on the highway. I turn off the radio like I'm stabbing it.

She turns it on.

I turn it off.

On.

Off.

"What do you want, Austin?" she asks grumpily, over the music.

"I want to talk to you," I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guard go up on her face. I know she's prepared _not_ to believe anything I say. "Why?" she asks defensively.

"Cause," I say mysteriously.

"Fine." She turns off the radio. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Hmmm." I tap the wheel thoughtfully. "I don't know. There's just so many topics. Oh. I've got one. A.A. Sterling."

If looks could kill, I would be dead.


	11. Chapter 11 - I Keep Messing It Up

**Ally's P.O.V.**

* * *

"What about her?" I ask, my throat tight. I try to appear casual, but I know it's not fooling Austin.

_Play it cool, Ally, _I tell myself, leaning back in the seat. _He probably doesn't mean what you think he does. _But I had never been the best at cool.

He sighs impatiently, like he's dealing with a child. "I'm not stupid, Ally. I know she's the one you talked to the day of Dez's party; that she's related to you, that she's the reason you've been acting weird. You don't have to lie to me anymore."

Cool gone.

I sit up straight, feeling blood pump to my face. "My mother told you all that?" I demand, enraged.

"She's your mother!?" Austin's eyes pop out of his face, and he swerves a little. The driver to the left of us honks his horn.

I hold onto the dashboard, mentally cursing myself inside for having let that slip. "No," I say sharply, praying that he buys it.

He doesn't.

"She's your mother," he whispers. "And she said you were ugly? What kind of mother does that?"

"She's not my real mother." I look out the window. "I was adopted."

"What else did she say," he asks in a soft, pleading tone.

I bite my lip. A raindrop hits the window. Then another, and another, and soon the soft roar of a storm fills my ears. Without another word, Austin takes the next exit off the highway. We park in a run-down gas station and sit in silence.

_Just pray that it doesn't hurt too much when he leaves you alone._

_Are you even capable of that? Making him love you?_

_You're going to let him pull you down._

_What has he ever done for you, besides make you his grateful sidekick?_

_So you're investing your time, energy and emotions in a guy who doesn't like you, with no personal aspirations whatsoever. Why?_

"Ally?"

I turn back. His hand is on my shoulder. "Please," he says. "Let me help you. You're too valuable to me for me to let you destroy yourself. Don't you understand that? Whatever she said, it's a lie. You're important to me. You're the only reason I have a career. I need you to become the person I've always dreamed of being."

"That, Austin," I say sadly. "Is exactly what she said."

He's confused.

With deliberate motions, I remove his hand from my shoulder. "I should have known from the beginning," I say. "And I should have trusted her right away when she told me. It's OK. I don't hate you anymore than I do her. But at least I know now that you are the same. You know how to get what you want out of people. It's the reason we were friends; so that you could be famous."

His expression changes from one of bewilderment to one of utter horror. "No, Ally, I didn't mean that at all!"

"Really?" I ask. To my chagrin I'm starting to cry. "Because that's what you said."

I open the door, stumble out of the car and start running. The raindrops mix with my tears. In moments I'm thoroughly soaked. Behind me, I hear Austin slam the car door as he follows me.

It doesn't take him long to catch up.

He grabs my hand, jerking me around to face him.

"Let go," I say stubbornly, hoping he can't tell that I'm crying with all the rain.

"Where are you going?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together.

It hurts, that all this concern is an act. Or maybe I have succeeded. Maybe I have made him love me.

"Home," I sob. "Leave me alone."

"How are you getting home?" He steps forward, towering over me.

"I don't care," I say miserably.

Gently, he tugs on my hand, leading me under the covering that protects the door of the gas station. Inside, the cashier is watching us. "Well I'm not leaving," Austin announces. "So until your dad comes to pick you up or I drop you off at home myself, you're stuck with me."

I wipe my face. In the light from the store, he can see that my eyes are red. "You were crying again," he says softly.

The way he says things sometimes makes my head feel light. I nod. I'm exhausted. I'm tired of thinking, tired of analyzing, tired of running, tired of defending myself. My whole body is weak, drained of all energy and thought. "I just want it all to stop," I say, feeling my eyes well up with fresh tears. I know I'm about to fall over.

He wraps his arms around my back, pulling me against his chest like before. And like before, I'm too confused to resist. Still holding on, he slides down the glass door until we're sitting on the wet, gray pavement. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, not caring that he's using me. I like to pretend that he isn't.

My crying stops slowly, and I start to feel sleepy.

"I'm so sorry, Ally," he says, taking a shaky breath. His arms tighten. "I'm so sorry that we're doing this to you."

I try to think of a good response, but I'm so tired now that I can't. My eyelids are so heavy, and the heat from his skin warms me. "That's OK..." I say sleepily.

"Of course it isn't." I feel how heavily he's breathing. His voice is filled with despair. "It's her fault you can't believe me, and it's my fault that you won't. I keep messing it up."

"Hmm?" I close my eyes.

"Saving you. I keep messing it up."

His words are fuzzy and indistinct.

"Ally?"

It's like he's at the end of a very long tunnel.

"Ally? Are you..."

I fall asleep.

* * *

**A/N - Sorry for more development. It's necessary but often frustrating. Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12 - Looooooove

**Austin's P.O.V.**

* * *

"Asleep?" I finish.

She doesn't answer, but I can feel how her breathing has slowed. I'm still breathing heavily. I'm glad she's asleep. I don't want her to see how angry I am. At myself. At Sterling. And as much as I'm enjoying being here right now, holding her, I can't wait to get started on my new plan.

It's clear to me now how I can get her to understand that I'm telling the truth. It can't come from me. She won't believe it. It has to be negated by the person who told the lie in the first place. My phone is in my pocket. Carefully, I contort my body so that I can get it out, then send a text to Trish.

_Get me a meeting with A.A. Sterling._

_What? _she replies quickly. _That's impossible. Do you know how famous she is?_

_It doesn't matter. Once she hears my name she'll agree._

_You're sure?_

_Absolutely._

The storm starts to clear up. My back aches. Ally's so asleep that it almost feels like I'm holding a corpse. After about twenty minutes. Trish texts back. _Got it, _she says. _You're supposed to meet her on Tuesday night at her luxury apartment in New York. Can you make it? With school?_

_I can miss school for two days. Book me a flight?_

_Already on it!_

Ally stirs. The sky is clear. Gently, I shake her until her eyes open. "You can sleep in the car," I say, standing and then helping her to her feet.

"OK," she says. I can tell by the way she moves that she's not really awake.

"Let's go home," I say, supporting her with one arm.

* * *

"So let me get this straight." Dez pops a cheeto into his mouth, then wipes his sticky orange fingers on his fluorescent orange pants. "Ally's biological mother is a psycho celebrity who is trying to turn Ally against you so you're flying to New York to yell at the mother and bring me back a piece of the Statue of Liberty."

"Uh, no," I said. "Not that last part."

"That's OK," he says, throwing a cheeto at my face. "I'll still love you."

I catch it in my mouth. "Thanks, man," I say, swallowing and rolling my eyes. "That means so much. You have no idea."

"So." Dez lies on his stomach, propping his head up with his hands and sticking his legs up in the air. "After you fix her or whatever, are you guys _finally _going to get together?"

I grab the bag of chemical goodness from between his arms. "What do you mean?" I asked innocently, grabbing another cheeto.

"Ha!" Dez scrambles to his feet. "Your face is red!"

"No, it's not," I say, even as I feel myself flush.

"Just admit it, dude," Dez says. "You looooooove her." He makes kissing faces, puckering up his lips like he just drank a quart of lemon juice.

I throw all my pillows at him one by one until he has to stop his pantomime. "I. Don't. Love. Her."

"Yes you do."

"She's my best friend."

"A best friend that you looooooove."

"You are so mature."

"Looooooove."

"Shut up."

"Looooooove."

I leap off the bed and shove his face into the carpet until he starts to wiggle around. "Finished?" I ask, letting his head up.

He spits a small piece of fuzz out of his mouth. "Very finished."

I stand up, walking over to the window. "I just wish I knew that I was doing the right thing this time. Yesterday I thought confronting her about it was the right thing, and then she ran away and started crying."

"She say anything on the ride home?" Dez asks.

"No. She slept. This whole thing; it's killing her."

"Dramatic," Dez says sarcastically.

"I'm being serious," I say, picking at a string that's coming out of the comforter on my bed. "I don't think she's sleeping or eating properly."

"You're not either," he points out, gesturing at the crumbs that remain of the three sandwiches I demolished for dinner.

"I eat when I'm upset," I say, shrugging helplessly.

"We should go to sleep," Dez looks at the clock. It's almost one. "What time do I need to drive you to the airport?"

"Eight," I say, throwing back my covers.

"What did you tell your parents?" Dez flips off the lights.

"That it's a career thing," I say to the dark.

"Well it's true," Dez's voice floats to me.

I close my eyes.

* * *

"I'm here to see A.A. Sterling," I say to the receptionist.

She peers at me skeptically over the top of her glasses. "No, seriously," I continue. "Call the apartment. I have an appointment."

She picks up the cordless phone slowly and dials the number. "Tina?" she asks, still watching me with suspicion. "There's a boy here to see Sterling." She covers the phone with a hand. "What's your name?" she asks tiredly.

One day she'll know who I am without ever having to ask. "Austin Moon," I say.

"He says his name is Austin Moon," she speaks slowly into the phone. Her eyes widen in surprise as she hears the response. "You're to go up immediately," she says, shocked. "Penthouse apartment, seventeenth floor."

"Thank you," I say, in a tone that implies that I'm a little offended by her behavior.

Head high, I walk into the elevator and push the correct button. The elevator has a mirror on the ceiling, I stare up at myself, suddenly nervous. I had met celebrities before, but this was Ally's biological _mother. _With an unsteady hand, I fix my hair and straighten my clothes. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open noiselessly. Cautiously, I step into the small anteroom and ring the doorbell.

A woman with a clipboard opens the large door. She sticks out her hand for me to shake. "I'm Tina," she announces. "Sterling's personal assistant."

"Austin Moon," I say.

"It's a pleasure." She turns around. "Follow me," she says over her shoulder. "Sterling is waiting for you."

The apartment is insane. Everything's sleek and modern. The walls are painted in earthy shades of brown and green. The furniture is upholstered in eggshell white. Large, feathery chandeliers give off a soft yellow glow. _Being a guy, it's sort of pathetic that I can analyze these things so well._

We come to a stop outside a door that has a shimmering, metallic quality. "She's right in there," Tina says, tilting her head. "I'll be back when you need to leave." She walks away.

I stare at the door until my head starts to spin. _It's OK, _I tell myself. _You can do this. Think of Ally. Think of Ally, crying in the bathroom, crying in the rain, sleeping in your arms. _

I take a deep breath and open the door.

* * *

**A/N - Now we're getting somewhere! I promise, I'm prolonging this intentionally to torture you guys. But hey, at least I update Monday through Friday!**

**Please review. If you don't review I might cry. **


	13. Chapter 13 - Move On

**Austin's P.O.V.**

* * *

"So you're Austin Moon."

I stare at her. _No one wears clothes like that at home. No one. _

She's wearing a black satin dress with gray streaks and black pumps. A diamond necklace glitters at her neck. Her brown hair is styled into long, flowing waves. She sighs, beckoning with a hand that's covered in rings. "Come in. Don't stand in the door."

I step forward unsteadily, powerless against the nervousness that's attacking me.

She takes a seat on the suede coach, crossing her legs. "Now," she says, patting the fabric beside her. "What has my darling daughter told you so far?"

I sit down beside her, making sure there is at least a foot of space between our bodies. "Nothing," I say. "I had to figure it all out by myself. Thanks to you, she doesn't trust me anymore."

"And should she?" Sterling offers me a dish of small, green candies.

I take one and pop it into my mouth. Lime. "Yes."

"We'll come back to that." She sets down the dish. "Stand up."

I obey.

"Turn around."

I do.

She puts a pensive finger to her lips. "I didn't understand it at first, but I see it now. Why Ally likes you. You really are quite handsome."

"She doesn't like me," I say, folding my arms and sitting back down.

"Well she did," Sterling says. "Before she found out what you really were."

_She liked me._

"And now, thanks to me, she'll be safe from you."

_She liked me. _

"So I'd move on, Austin." She puts her face uncomfortably close to mine. "Move. On."

I swallow, hard.

"You should see the look on your face right now." She leans away, putting an arm on the back of the couch. "It's like I just killed your puppy or something. But you know it's true. You know that once you get famous, you'll leave, go on to the glittering world of premieres and fans that awaits you and leave her behind, working some second-rate job till she dies."

"I would never do that," I say. "I care about her."

"I'm sure you do." She tilts her head. "Let me tell you a story."

_Please don't._

"Ally's biological father was the son of Jerrold Trust, the CEO of Newcomb Music, which, until it went out of business, was the most successful record company in Miami. I met Brad Trust in one of my college classes. He fell in love with me. I fell in love with him." She smirks. "At least, I thought I had. But after he had done everything he could to launch my career, I realized that he wasn't enough for me. You see, at the time, I didn't know that I was using him. Austin, you may not think you're taking advantage of Ally like that, but you are."

I stare at the feathery chandelier. _She's right, _I think. _I have no idea what I'm doing._

"I'm not blaming you." She puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm just stopping you."

"When did you realize it?" I ask, my voice thick with emotion. "When did you realize that you didn't love him?"

"When he proposed," she says. "I was pregnant with Ally. I had already decided to give her up for adoption as soon as she was born. I was on the verge of signing a contract. My choice. Fame or a family. I suppose you can guess what I chose."

It was hard to make her the villain while she was sharing all this personal stuff with me. It was even harder when I was starting to believe her. "So please, Austin," she says. "If you think you care about her now, you'll leave her alone before you realize that you don't."

I had never thought about it this way. I really had no idea what would happen when my career took off. Fame changes people. It has to. How could I know how it would change me? Sure, I thought I would still care about Ally, but I couldn't know for certain.

"I just..." I draw a shaky breath. "I can't imagine my life without her."

"I know," she says comfortingly. "I know. But you'll be doing the right thing."

* * *

Ally's waiting for me by my locker when I get out of English. "Where were you?" Ally asks. "You weren't in school the past two days.

"Are you OK?" I ask.

"What?"

"I haven't really talked to you since Saturday, when you kind of had an emotional breakdown." I lean against the lockers.

"Oh." She looks down, embarrassed. "That."

"So are you OK?"

"I'll be fine," she says, sounding slightly annoyed. "Now, are you going to tell me where you were or not?"

"Not." I shift my backpack to my other shoulder. "But we need to talk."

"Oh, really?" She squints her eyes at me like I'm crazy. "Because last time we 'talked,' it didn't turn out so good."

Actually, I thought the end result had been pretty sweet, but I wasn't about to mention that to her. "This time it'll be different," I say. "I promise. It's really important, and it's going to fix everything. We just have to be honest with each other."

All I can think about now are her eyes. They're huge, like big, round pancakes. "Alright," she says, biting her lip. "As long as it's not going to be weird."

I don't say anything. I can't promise that it won't be weird. I start to walk away, but Ally's voice makes me stop. "Funny thing about Dez," she says thoughtfully. "He can't keep a secret. How is Sterling doing?"

I turn around, just in time to see her walk away.

"Great start at being honest, Austin," she says over her shoulder.

* * *

**A/N - Again, some more slow development. But don't worry. It's going to pick up in the next few chapters. I promise. **


	14. Chapter 14 - Red, White and Black

**Ally's P.O.V.**

* * *

"Hello." A perky woman in a dark purple suit stands up to shake our hands. "I'm Bailey Grace, your interviewer for today. We're so honored to have you two do a feature for us. You'd be surprised at how many famous couples refuse to do this sort of thing. Ever since Austin's first cover and your relationship went public, we've had fans clamoring to have you in our magazine again."

"Well, I'm glad to be back at Cheetah Beat," Austin says, nudging me.

We're in Fort Lauderdale, home of the magazine.

"And I'm really excited to do my first feature," I say, stepping on his foot. _Accident. Not._

"Great," she smiles. "We'll do the photo shoot first, and then the interview." She snaps her fingers. Two people dressed in absurdly stylish garb arrive. "Get them into hair and makeup," she says, shooing us out the door.

Trish stands by my chair while my hair is being done. "You know what to do," she reminds me. "Smile, act like you're having the time of your life, let him kiss your cheek and hold your hand or whatever. Don't blow it. This is the biggest opportunity we've had so far."

"Got it," I say, then turn away to face the mirror.

They put me in a short red dress with a cropped, black leather jacket and boots and send me off the the set, which consists of a white velvet couch placed in front of a backdrop that's pure white. Austin, now in a black leather jacket, black skinny jeans and red T-shirt, is waiting for me. He looks amazing. He smiles as I get close. My heart jumps a little, and then I remind myself that we're just acting. At least, he is. I'm pathetic, and I can't help it.

It's been killing me, not knowing what Sterling said to him. We still hadn't talked, and it was Friday afternoon now. Sterling wouldn't have told him that I liked him, would she? No. She was on my side, or at least she thought she was, because I definitely wasn't on hers.

And then there had been that other moment. In the rain. It had been so _real. _So _genuine. _If he was acting, he deserved an Oscar. But then again, he still needed me. I was his song machine. Maybe he had just confused the person he needed with the person I was.

The photographer made us pose around the couch, having us do everything possible that there is to do with the prop. Finally, the couch is removed, and we do a couple of freestanding poses. It takes the photographer an hour before he gets all the shots he wants. "Look," he says, gesturing us over to a computer screen when he's finally done. He points at the picture. "This is our cover."

I'm standing in front of Austin. His arms are wrapped around my waist. Chin on my shoulder, he's laughing at the ground with that mischievous smirk on his face. I'm staring straight at the camera with a deer-in-the-headlights look in my eyes, but with a smile on my lips.

How do we do it? Come out looking like this when all we do in real life is fight?

Austin clears his throat. "Looks great. Good job."

* * *

"So." Bailey signals to the technician to start the recording. "Austin. Tell me how you and Ally first met."

"It was at Sonic Boom, her dad's music store." Austin leans back confidently in his large, plush chair. "I went in and started playing the drums with corn dogs, just doing stupid guy stuff with my best friend. Then she came over and told us to stop. She was so cute," he chuckles. "So tiny and still so mad."

Right on cue, I giggle and blush.

"Then," Austin continues. "After I accidentally performed one of her songs, she forgave me and we became partners."

"That is so sweet," Bailey says, looking down at her clipboard for the next question. "How long did it take you to fall for her?"

"Not long." Austin looks off at something in the distance. "But it took me a while to admit it to myself."

"And you?" Bailey glances at me.

"Several months," I say. "I had to get to know him first."

"Where did you two go on your first date?"

We hadn't thought about this one. I look to him nervously. "To this park in the mall near where we live," Austin answers smoothly, meeting my eyes. "Ally loves it there."

"Back to you, Ally," Bailey directs. "Now, we've already met Austin in our last issue, but now it's time to really meet his girlfriend. Tell us about yourself."

"Well," I say. "I love music, obviously. I play the piano all the time, even when no one wants to hear it. I love pickles. I chew my hair when I'm nervous and I'm a horrible liar."

Austin starts.

_What? _I mouth at him.

He shakes his head.

But he's got that look again, the look that means he knows something. And it makes me nervous, because I have absolutely no idea what it could be. Bailey laughs, clearly amused by my answers.

The rest of the interview contains fairly normal questions about things like our privacy and our songwriting together. I'm freaked out. Austin answers each question promptly, but I can tell he's not giving them his full attention. In the back of his mind, he's thinking about something. And I'm driving myself mad trying to figure out what it is.

When the interview is over, we're sent back to our dressing rooms to change. I stop by the refreshment table to get some mineral water. Then I go into the small room, close the door, turn around and scream.

Austin's waiting there. In my dressing room. He's already changed his clothes. "Shhh!" he whispers. "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" I shriek quietly. "What are you doing? Why are you in my dressing room?"

"Cause I wanted to talk to you."

I set the mineral water down on a small table. "It couldn't have waited?" I put my hands on my hips.

"Theoretically, yes, but practically, no. I couldn't wait."

I was about to yell for help, but it would have been a little weird for a teenage girl to be angry about having her cute boyfriend in her dressing room. Plus, I was curious. And I was feeling lightheaded again. "Go ahead," I say. "What couldn't wait?"

"A question." I see his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. "Do you still like me?"

* * *

**A/N - Is it just me, or does this chapter feel kind of like the Hunger Games? I don't know, maybe I just love that series so much that I'm imagining things. What do you guys think?**


	15. Chapter 15 - Guys Are Stupid

**Austin's P.O.V.**

**A/N - Guys, because I'm uploading today, you may or may not get a chapter on Monday. Just a warning.**

* * *

"I am NOT going to answer that."

"But you did like me," I say confidently. "Right? You told Sterling that?"

She looks betrayed. "Fine," she spits out angrily. "I liked you. But that's over now, and if you can't see that then you need a doctor. Now," she lifts her head high. "Let me out."

I shift my body so that I'm completely blocking the door. "You said we could talk!"

"I said we could talk as long as it wasn't weird," she hisses.

"What's weird about this?"

"We're in a dressing room?"

"So?" I fold my arms.

"So what?"

"So why is that weird?" I narrow my eyes. "Unless you're suddenly going to start stripping or something."

Not that I would object.

Her face turns stoplight red. It's adorable. "No!" she squeaks.

"Then what is the problem here?"

"Ummm." Ally glances around the room.

"No problem then. Good." I smirk.

I hope she can't see through my show of bravado. Underneath my arms, my hands are shaking. I'm so nervous I feel like I'm going to be sick. Is this the way Ally felt on stage all the time? Really, this reaction doesn't make any sense. I've only felt this way about umbrellas, and that was such a silly thing.

But I'm about to do what's right. Aren't I supposed to feel good about it?

It took me a while to come to this point. I had to really think about what Sterling said. It was true. All of it. It had to be. For a few days, I had held on to the slim hope that Ally didn't feel anything for me anymore.

That would have solved all my problems. If she didn't like me, I wouldn't feel bad if I did leave her someday to pursue my career. It didn't matter how I felt about her (not that I was even sure right now) because her heart would be safe from me. I could be around her and know that my actions in the present and future would have no effect on her.

But then, today in the interview, I had realized something. She had said she was a terrible liar. I had seen it firsthand myself many times. So at the Shayla's party, in our interviews, during the photo shoot, she _wasn't _acting.

She wasn't capable of faking affection like that. She liked me. So I had to do it; I had to tell her our partnership was off, tell her to go live her life and become to successful and happy without me by her side.

Right?

I stare at her. She stares back. She's waiting for me to start the conversation. After all, I am the one who trapped her in here. I should at least have the decency to get on with whatever I came to do and then let her out.

But now I was doubting myself. What about all the times when she acted like she hated me? She couldn't be faking all the time. Which one was really her? Or were they both? My head is spinning. I can't ignore this, and I can't tell her to go unless I'm sure she likes me. I have to be sure about this.

Guys are stupid.

We have this bad habit of just doing stuff.

So, when I realize that she's not going to tell me how she feels if I keep talking, I just do something. Because all guys since the beginning of the world have been stupid, and I'm one of them. I take four, determined steps forward, pull her towards me and kiss her, with one arm around her waist and the other gently pressuring the back of her neck.

The last thing I see before closing my eyes is her white, frightened face.

Yeah, it was stupid, but I had done it, and now I was determined to make the best of it. This was the test I had chosen, crude and physical as it was, it would have to do. _If she pushes you away, she likes you. If she doesn't, she doesn't._

Her lips are firm and stiff. She's not moving.

I'm not sure what this means. I pull back a little. Our noses are inches apart. She's got pancake eyes again. "Well?" I whisper huskily.

"That's not talking," she whispers back.

"No," I say. "It's not."

Suddenly, in a move so quick that it makes me jump, she throws her arms around my neck and lands a fervent kiss on my lips. Both of my hands drop to her waist. There's no time for talking. There's barely enough time for breathing.

I'd kissed other girls before. That girl in the seventh grade who always wore a headband to school. That drunk college girl at my cousin's party. Brooke. But kissing Ally; it was different. We knew each other so thoroughly, body and mind. We didn't have to think. I know every plane and line of her face, and she knows all of mine.

I open my eyes, push her up against the wall, then bend down for another kiss as she tangles her fingers in my hair. "Austin." She says my name like a laugh when we pull away to breathe. Then her eyes widen and she pushes me away. "Austin!" She backs toward the door. "No. No, no, no, no! I..."

"You do still like me." Even in my confusion, I have to be sure of that. I know it's important, but I'm suddenly forgetting exactly why.

"I shouldn't have..."

"Admit it," I order, jaw tight and lips tingling.

Ally stares fixedly at the door. She's still breathing hard. "Yes," she says, her mouth barely moving.

I don't reply. I have to sort through all of this.

"Bye," she says. There's something frighteningly final in her tone. She opens the door and walks out without a backward glance. I go to the doorway, watching her departure. The cosmeticians nearby stare at her, then at me, then at each other. _Who cares what they think? _My face starts to turn red anyway. I go back inside, close and lock the door, turn off the light and sit in the dark. I always think best in the dark.

Ally liked me, therefore she would be hurt if I someday chose my career over her.

I cared about Ally, therefore I should break up our partnership as soon as possible, so that she wouldn't get any more attached to me than she already was. So, logically, I should say goodbye as soon as possible.

But the kiss had made me realize something. I was no longer sure if I was strong enough to tell her to leave me. But I didn't think I would have to. There was a third option. One that Sterling had not outlined. She would probably not approve of it. But was going to do it anyway. Some things in life are most important.

* * *

"Hey." Dez is waiting for me in the front seat. Oddly, out of the two of us, he is the better driver. "What took you so long?"

"I was talking with Ally." I stumble over the word _talking._

Dez starts the car.

"You know when I said I didn't love her?" I ask suddenly.

"Yes," he says, pulling out of the parking space.

"I'm pretty sure I lied."

I stare out the window, planning out the course of action that has become my only viable option.

* * *

**A/N - I've got a little song, and it goes like this...**

**If you're happy and you know it please review (clap, clap)**

**If you're happy and you know it please review (clap, clap)**

**If you're happy and you know it then your words will surely show it**

**If you're happy and you know it please review (clap, clap)**


	16. Chapter 16 - Strong Message

**A/N - Thanks so much for all the reviews last chapter! They really do make me happy. **

**Ally's P.O.V.**

* * *

I was a logical person, or at least I had always thought I was. I was a sensible person, or at least I had always thought I was. I was a rational person, or at least I had always thought I was. Why did I let Austin do it to me? Why did I let him make me act like an idiot?

And why did I have to tell him I still liked him?

"Ally?" Trish's voice is suspicious. "What do you want?"

I press the phone close to my ear. My hands are cold. "I want to talk," I say.

"Ha," Trish laughs. "Really? You think, after how you've treated me, you can just randomly call and say you want to talk like it's perfectly normal?"

"Look," I say, feeling my eyes start to tear up. I see now what I've done to our friendship because I can't control my emotions. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it. I was just angry."

"At me?"

"No."

"Then why...?"

"I can't explain."

Silence on the other end of the phone. "Ally, you're making it really hard."

"I know." I lean against the wall of my bedroom. "But I don't know what else to do," I say hoarsely. "I need to talk to someone. I can't...I can't keep it to myself anymore, and I just can't tell Dad. Please. I need you."

The connection crackles as Trish sighs. "OK. What happened?"

"Austin and I kissed."

More silence. It stretches forever. I wonder if she hung up. "Trish?" I ask tentatively. "Are you there?"

"Yeah," she says, but she sounds farther away. "I'm trying to find the menu for that chinese place in the mall. What do you feel like? Fried rice or lo mein?"

I laugh, wiping my face. "Fried rice, please."

"Lo mein it is. I'll be at your house in twenty minutes. Don't go anywhere."

"Yes, ma'am," I say.

* * *

"So he kissed you?" Trish hands me a fork.

"Yes." I stick it into the white, paper carton. "He just kind of...charged."

"And then?" Trish's mouth is already full of slippery, brown noodles.

"I was kind of shocked."

"Duh."

"Then he pulled back."

"That's it?"

"Then _I _kissed _him._"

Trish's eyes pop. "And then?"

"We stopped kissing." I pick up a single noodle with my fork. "And started making out."

"Whoa." Trish gets excited. "This is better than _The Timid Heart, _when Emma and Richard are kissing underneath the umbrella while it's raining toxic waste! You and Austin should totally have your own movie, or better, TV show."

I stare at the noodle. "But now what happens? Help me, Trish. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" She flops onto her stomach and begins to ramble. "You guys finally did something about your feelings for each other; surprisingly, without a million of those _I don't want to ruin our friendship _conversations, which I was sure you were going to put me through. And it didn't take too long after you guys met each other, just a little under a year, so we didn't have to watch you flirt forever, really liking each other but not knowing it and not admitting it to anyone else. I mean, seriously, how annoying is that?"

"You knew?" I ask.

"Everyone knew." Trish grins. "Except for you and Austin, of course."

"He doesn't like me," I say crisply.

"Ally." She snorts. "The dude kissed you. Of course he likes you."

I don't say anything. I can't explain to her that he's confused; that he only cares about my talents, even if he doesn't realize it. She won't believe me. "Anyway," I change the direction of the conversation. "What happens next? What'll he do? What should I do? I've never had a boyfriend before. I had never even been kissed before."

"Depends on what you want," Trish says, loading up another forkful of lo mein. "You you want to date him, right?"

"No," I say slowly.

Trish drops the fork. "What? Ally, are you sure? I mean, you guys..."

"I'm sure."

I think I'm sure.

Maybe I think I'm sure.

I don't know.

Am I?

"Alright, then," Trish says, in a tone that implies that she doesn't believe me. "Then you need to send him a strong message, and quickly."

_Strong message. _My eyes begin to glaze over. _I can do that._

* * *

I lie in bed. I can't sleep.

I replay every detail of the kiss in my mind a thousand times, but not by choice. It's like being stuck in a nightmare that keeps repeating itself, but this scene is not a nightmare because it's frightening.

It's a nightmare because I like it so much.

And every time I see the way he walked toward me, the way he put his hand on my waist, the way I threw my arms around his neck, the way he pushed me up against the wall, the way I ran my fingers through his hair and breathed his name...I realize that I can't do it. I can't be with him.

It's too painful. Not _being_ with him. That part's easy. He makes me forget everything: my name, my favorite color, how to breathe. What's painful is being away, because the more I'm with him the more painful it is to be away. And I know it's true, that someday we'll separate because he's destined to be famous, and I know I can't handle it when he leaves if I feel this close to him again.

It'll kill me.

I turn on my lamp and sit up in bed. My songbook is lying on the nightstand beside me. I pick it up and flip through the pages until I reach the song that I wrote right after I first knew that I liked Austin, when I had almost left for New York. Now I almost wish I had gotten away from all this when I had the chance.

_UNREQUITED_

_I'm alright; I don't expect much from you, today, today, or really ever_

_I'm just fine, I don't expect you to notice, the way, the way, I can't stop smiling_

_You're so blind, you're a guy, and that's ok, that's ok, because I think if you_

_Saw my mind, you wouldn't like it_

_And nothing's gonna change_

_Cause you'll never know_

_About the nights that I thought of you on the ride home_

_And you'll remain the same_

_Cause I won't let it show_

_It's pathetic. It's sad. It's tragic, the way I let you drive me mad. _

_And keep it hidden below_

_It takes time, yeah I know what they say, what they say, but as all of these_

_Months go by and nothing happens, I lose faith, I lose faith and I'm left here to_

_Fantasize about the two of us in that place, in that place where I can look_

_In your eyes and know you mean it_

_You don't know you're doing it, you're just being yourself_

_Can't you see you've got me like you've got everyone else?_

_All I really ask is that you let me be around_

_You don't know what it means, just to hear the sound_

_Of your voice when you talk with your friends in the hallway_

_I'd run for miles just to look at you all day_

_But you'll never see it; no, wouldn't believe that_

_All this time, I've been waiting for you to make a move_

_But right now, I've accepted that this is the truth_

_There's no spark, there's no light on your side, it's unrequited_

_No spark, there's no light on your side, it's unrequited_

The words begin to swim around my vision. Putting the book back, I climb unsteadily out of bed. I walk into the bathroom to get a drink. Maybe it'll help me sleep, but it probably won't. I switch on the bathroom light. My face darkened with shadows. I look sickly and tired.

I catch sight of the poster behind me, the one I've had tacked up on the wall for three years now, ever since I found out that the school made posters. Then I remember the letter that I have in the bottom drawer of my dresser, and I get an idea.

I stare at my worn reflection, planning out the course of action that has become my only viable option.

* * *

**A/N - In case you guys were wondering about why I don't include credits for the two songs that Ally has written in this story, it's because they're actually mine as well, not just poems but real songs. I hope you guys like them! ****_You Can't Catch Me_****and ****_Unrequited _****are two of the ones I'm most proud of. **


	17. Chapter 17 - OVER

**Austin's P.O.V.**

* * *

"Austin, you don't have to do this."

Dez has his serious face on. That happens like, once or twice a year, and it means that he wants to talk business. I grab my phone from my desk, shoving it into my pocket. "I know," I say, then open the closet doors.

"Is it because of Ally?"

I hope he doesn't notice how I freeze. "It affects her," I say smoothly, pulling a navy blue v-neck off one of the shelves, then taking off my ratty t-shirt and pulling the new one over my head.

"And she caused it," Dez says confidently. "As your friend, I think it's my duty to tell you that you're making possibly the biggest mistake of your life."

"Maybe to you," I say, checking my pocket to make sure my car keys are still in there. "Maybe to everyone else in the world. But I don't have a choice."

"Of course you have a choice," Dez scoffs. "Everyone has a choice."

"But I don't want one." I head for the door, still talking over my shoulder "So let me be happy this way, OK?"

"Trish won't like it!" he yells.

* * *

"So glad you could come to meet with me, Austin," Mr. Starr says, motioning towards the black, leather couch. "I have to say, as of now, your future with us looks rather promising."

For right now, I'm not saying anything. I need a little while to build up courage.

Jimmy Starr's house is enormous. There are life-size posters everywhere of the people he made famous, along with signed CDs and guitars, t-shirts, and other brand-name items that they endorsed. It's like a private hall of fame museum. I even have my own poster. There aren't many things hanging beside it yet.

Jimmy sits down in a huge, matching recliner opposite me. "So," he clears his throat. "I have to admit, after the first album came out and didn't do so well, I began to have doubts about the longevity of your success. I was even considering dropping you from my record label. I mean, after all, we're not a charity. We have to live on something too. But then, after all the publicity with your girlfriend, album sales started to skyrocket. Which is why I can say with perfect confidence that you have no reason to fear. Starr Records would be honored to record another album with you." He slides a small stack of papers across the shiny, marble table to me. "Here's your next contract."

I don't move at all, afraid that if I even get one inch closer to the agreement that I won't be able to stop myself from signing it.

Mr. Starr frowns. "Austin?"

"I'm sorry," I say, standing. "I'm done."

His mouth drops open. I'm sure that if I look at the posters of the other celebrities, their mouths will be open to. "What are you talking about? I told you we were going to produce another album. That's why you came today, to get all the paperwork done."

_Never mind, _I almost say. _Forget what I said._ I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. I close my eyes, and I think about Ally. I think about being with her, without having to be afraid that my career will tear us apart. "I'm dropping from your record label," I say, eyes still closed.

There's silence for about half a minute. Then his voice cuts through the darkness. "I get emails and letters and videos every day from kids just your age. Some of them can sing better than you can. Some of them can dance better than you can. Some look better than you do. Some are more charismatic than you are. But none of them have it all. By some miracle, you have some of all of it, and not because you're better than them, but because fate seems to favor you. And you're just going to throw it away? Why, Austin? Why would you do something so reckless?"

I open my eyes, but look down. "It doesn't matter," I say, trying hard to keep my voice from wavering. "And I'm sorry for all those kids who didn't get the chance I did, but you're going to have to pick one of them to replace me."

I stand up and stick out my hand. "Thanks, Mr. Starr, for trying. I'm sorry, but I'm not good enough for this business. I'm not tough enough to give everything up I care about just so a few more can know who I am."

He doesn't shake my hand. He's not used to this; to people rejecting his offers, not getting starry-eyed when he talks to them. I lower my hand slowly. "Get out of my house," he says darkly.

* * *

At first, it feels awful, knowing that I can never undo what I've just done.

It's over.

My career.

O.

V.

E.

R.

All those days I spent singing until my throat hurt. The days I spent picking at the guitar until my fingers started bleeding. The days I spent staring at sheet music until my eyes burned. The days I spent studying the difference between harmonic and melodic minor scales, memorizing the circle of fifths, aurally identifying chromatic and diatonic intervals. It meant nothing. It was a waste of time.

Given up. For Ally.

A.

L.

L.

Y.

And I know; it was totally worth it.

The farther away I drive from Starr's ridiculously lavish home and the closer I get to Sonic Boom, the more certain I am that it was worth it. My heart lightens. I want to laugh, and I do, even though there's nothing funny and the people in the other cars are staring at me like I just escaped from a mental hospital.

I leave my car in the parking lot, then run through the mall, nimbly dodging the shoppers. The neon sign in the window reads _open. _I push on the glass door. There's an employee I've never seen before at the counter. Except for her, the store is empty. "Hi," I say uncertainly. "Do you know where Ally is?"

"Dawson?" The short, Asian girl is filing her nails. "Ally Dawson?"

"Yeah."

"She's with her dad."

I sigh, cheated out of the moment. "They're at home? Where's her dad?"

"Not at home," the girl says, setting down the file and examining the job she's done. "He's helping her move in."

I get this dreadful, cold knot in the back of my throat. "Where?" I ask.

"Some music school. In New York."

She picks up the file and starts working again.

I want to smash something.

Really badly.

* * *

**A/N - Who else was UNBELIEVABLY disappointed by the A&A/Jessie crossover? I thought for sure we'd get more Auslly moments. Plus I was really jealous of the Austin and Jessie duet. I would have freaked out if it was Ally doing it with him instead. **


	18. Chapter 18 - Mooney (Being Found)

**A/N - OK. I know you who expect like, four or five updates per week are probably really disappointed right now because I haven't uploaded since last Tuesday. So here is my short list of excuses/reasons.**

**1. I got sick.**

**2. I got lazy.**

**3. I hate nearing the end of something cause I always get writer's block.**

**4. The writer's block that I had with my actual original story that I'm writing (something that really counts and that's really mine?) disappeared so I need to focus on that now. Hit 100,000 words last night. Hurray!**

**5. Christmas**

**So I will be uploading very sporadically in the future. Which is OK because unfortunately, this story is almost over :(.**

**Ally's P.O.V.**

* * *

"Hey." The girl with short, blond hair sits up when Dad and I enter. "I'm Hannah, your roommate."

"Hey," I smile. "I'm Ally."

Dad and I set down my suitcases.

"I know," Hannah gushes. "You're kind of famous. You're going to be _so _popular here at mooney."

"Mooney?" I ask, walking around the room.

"Yeah. M.U.N.Y. Mooney. It's everyone's pet name for the school."

"That's funny," I say, trying to smile again, but finding it difficult.

"I have to go, Ally," Dad says, glancing at the clock that's hanging on the wall. "Getting your application straightened out took longer than I thought. Are you going to be OK unpacking?"

"I think I can handle it," I say.

We hug each other and say our goodbyes. "Are you sure you don't want to come back with me to Miami to see your friends one last time?" Dad asks. "I know they'd really want to say goodbye. Especially your boyfriend."

That's when the guilt hits me, like a steel bar pressing against my throat. "I can't," I choke out.

I know if I go back, I won't be able to leave again. This really is what is best. Even if Trish never speaks to me again. Even if Dez never speaks to me again. Even if Austin hates me forever. If they were in the same position, they would have made the exact same choice. But they weren't, so they would never understand the logic behind my actions.

Dad leaves. There's an awkward silence as Hannah watches me unpack. "So what do you want to do?" she asks when I finish. "There's not much on campus. We could go down to the theater. There's a band performing tonight. French horn players are always so hot. I don't know...something about their lips..."

"Actually..." I say slowly. "I want to go somewhere. How would I do that?"

"Subway," she says automatically. "We're not actually supposed to leave the school, but we do it all the time. Of course, you could try to get a cab, but they're so expensive."

I hadn't brought a lot of money. "Can you help me get there?" I ask.

"Sure," she says.

"I am so proud of you, darling." Sterling hugs me delicately, like she's touching an ice sculpture. "I just can't believe you actually did it. Believe me, you won't regret your decision."

Hannah is still starstruck. She stands in the door to the penthouse suite.

"How did you know?" I ask stiffly.

She laughs. "It's all over the websites. It blows my mind that he would do something so rash...he must really care about you. Or at least think he does. So are you two a couple for real now?"

"What are you talking about?" I sit down, nearly sliding off the leather seat.

"You know..." she snaps her fingers impatiently. "Austin. His career. You."

I shake my head. "What? Hannah, sit."

Obediently, my new roommate sits. On the floor. Right in the middle of the door.

"You fixed everything," Sterling says.

"Yes..." I say slowly, still not sure that we're on the same page.

"So did you convince him to do it?" she asks excitedly, bouncing up and down a little in her designer wedges. "Honestly, darling, it's the perfect revenge on him for using you. He can't ever rise again after insulting Starr so blatantly."

We're not on the same page. We're not in the same book. We're probably not even in the same library. "Austin did _what_?" I whisper loudly. "What are you _talking _about? He did nothing! I moved to New York! I left him, just like you said I wouldn't be able to do!"

For a moment, Sterling's face is frozen. Then it stretches into a smile. She can't stop laughing. She's doubled over, clutching her stomach with mirth. "How..." she pants. "Did. That. Happen?"

I stare at her stonily, unamused and still horribly confused.

He insulted Starr?

He can't rise again?

But...why? No. She must be lying. It couldn't be true.

"Ally!" a voice calls. It's not a girl's voice. I spin around so quickly that I fall off the couch and crash to the floor. I hear footsteps running. I scramble to my feet to find that Austin's standing in front of me. His fists are clenched at his sides. His cheeks are burning red, almost like he has a fever.

I cower, for some reason afraid that he's going to hit me.

Instead, he pulls me into a hug, squeezing me until I feel like I'm going to pass out. I feel moisture on my face. He's crying. "Why did you do that?" he shouts. I recognize a certain quality of his voice because it's so distinct. I've only heard it once before. When I was six, I got lost in the mall for a few hours. When my dad found me, he was so worried that he screamed at me for an entire half hour, but I didn't care because I was so relieved to feel safe again.

And that's what this felt like.

Being six again, and being found.


	19. Chapter 19 - Tsunami

**A/N - Surprise, surprise. Look who our narrator is.**

**Sterling's P.O.V.**

* * *

It's like a tsunami. You watch it approaching. You do what you can beforehand to prevent it. But no matter what you do, you can't stop it. All your precautions are meaningless before its sheer magnitude. Dams, walls, ditches are powerless to halt its descent. They can slow it down, but they can't really save you.

That's what it felt like, trying to help Ally and Austin realize that they're falling into a trap. Like trying to hold back a force of nature. Oh, I was clever. Devious even. Everyone says the ends don't justify the means, but they only say it when the ends don't turn out right. The means are always forgotten in the glory of the ends. If I had succeeded, if they both knew they were better off, then they would have thanked me and ignored the ways I had manipulated them.

But now I saw them together.

"How could you be so selfish?" Austin whispered. He was crying. _How manly. _

"I wasn't," Ally said, her face buried in his chest. "Your career was safe again. It was just a matter of time before you..."

_"AAAAAAGH!_" Austin screams, tears running down his cheeks. He pushes her back, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders . "Shut up, Ally!"

_So maybe I should give up_, I thought, watching the pair. _After all, he was willing to sacrifice his career for her. He flew to New York once to set me straight, and twice to bring her back. Would one teenage boy really do all that himself for a girl he was only using? Wouldn't he have realized that he didn't care about her by now?_

She bites her lip, her face turning white.

Austin pales. "No, no. Forget that. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."

_Yes. _I tap my polished fingers against the arm of the chair that I'm lounging in. _Maybe he..._

"It's just..." Austin lets go and starts pacing up and down in front of her. His voice cracks with emotion every few words. "What do you want me to do so that you'll believe that I really care about you? Jump out of a plane? Cut off my arm? I don't know what I'm supposed...can't you just tell me? I thought giving up my career would be enough, but then you just left! You didn't even say goodbye!"

Now Ally is finally starting to catch up. "You did that?" she asks, but it's more like a statement than a question.

Austin stops quickly. "You didn't know?" he asks incredulously. He glares at me, like I've somehow kept it from her. I shrug. I had nothing to do with it. I had been about to tell her when he came running in here like a...crazy man. _I really need to expand my vocabulary. _"It's over, Ally," Austin continues, wiping his face. "Over. Please, stop punishing me and come back to Miami. Or..." he takes a deep breath. "I'm moving to New York," he threatens.

_He really does care for her, _I realized, watching his face. It's covered in lines and tears, the marks of his distress. _And it's not a temporary thing. _I would have never given up my career for Brad. I might have thought about it, but I would never have actually _done _it.

Ally's in a daze, like she can't believe she's awake. She hasn't spoken in a while. Then she looks at me, wanting confirmation or approval or even a reaction from me. After all, I did start this whole thing. I'm starting to regret that. "Austin, may Ally and I speak with each other alone, please?" I ask quietly.

"No." Austin stands between us. Consciously or unconsciously, he's protecting her. "Every time one of us talks to you, we leave thinking the opposite of the way we came in. Everything's about to be OK again, and _you are not messing it up._"

I put my hands up, warding off his anger. I would have told Ally to forget about everything I'd said and go home, but it was kind of pointless. Like a person trying to push a tsunami from behind. Their reconciliation was coming anyway. My interference wouldn't make it crash any faster. It was just tiring. To me.

Ally presses her hands to her temples like she has a headache. Austin glares at me.

"Alright then," I say cordially. "We won't talk. Go ahead, Austin."

He turns his back on me, and focuses his full attention on my daughter. "Look." He takes both of her hands in his. "We need each other. When we're apart, when we're hurt and confused and angry, it's hard to live. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I know you can't either. It kills us."

Ally nods.

"So why are we putting ourselves through it? Why are we making it so complicated?" Austin strokes her hair with a gentle hand. His face still shines where the tears ran down, but he's not crying anymore.

_He's better at this than even I am, _I muse.

"It is complicated," she whispers.

"No, it isn't," Austin contradicts her. "We're just a girl and a guy who like each other and seem incapable of doing anything about it."

"You like me?" she asks.

"Oh, please," Austin huffs. "Like you didn't know by now."

"I didn't," she says tiredly. "I was never sure if it was real."

"It was," he says.

They stare into each other's eyes for a really long time. Like, _really _long.

"OK..." I say, standing up and pulling down my tight minidress until I'm showing the appropriate amount of leg. "As interesting and disgustingly sweet as this is, my manager is coming by in a few minutes to talk about my next movie options, so let's get through this a little faster. I'm sorry, Austin. I was wrong about you. I'm sorry, Ally, for all the pain my advice has caused. Now kiss. You have exactly..." I glance at my diamond watch. "Three minutes."

They use all three of them. Every second. I stare at the pair in fascination, even though it's probably rude. It's just so weird though...how young they are and how _good_ at it they are. They know exactly how their bodies fit together, when to pull back and when to move forward, like they're anticipating the other's every move.

"You know what I said about liking you?" he whispers near the end.

"Mhm." She tilts her head up to meet his eyes.

He swallows nervously. "I kind of...love you."

Like a tsunami, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

* * *

**A/N - So like I said, we're nearing the end. I've probably only got like one or two chapters left in me. Do you guys have any story ideas? It's amazing how much a story's focus can change from the idea you originally had. I had NO IDEA what was going to happen when I started this thing. I thought I was going to concentrate more on their story-lines from the show and the whole fake relationship thing (which has been done a lot but still...) and then BOOOOOOM it's about Ally's biological mom. Whatever. Let's go with it. **

**Please review if you like!**


	20. Chapter 20 - Where You Belong

It's been three days since we flew back from New York.

Three days since Austin's "profession of love." For me.

We got on a plane right away. We didn't talk much on the flight back. We didn't even hold hands. But I was aware of every movement either of us made. I called my dad, and he picked me up at the airport. That night, he sent a letter to MUNY explaining that I would not be attending there after all. He didn't really ask what had changed, but I think he knew. Parents are smart that way sometimes.

It's strange to go back to school, like I have been away for a very long time. I think about why it is strange as I walk the hallways. Ever since November 14, I had been living inside my head, in a reality all my own. No one had been who they once were. No one had truly meant what they said. All because I felt like if I did not know Austin, I did not really know anyone else. Now, I knew Austin, and the world was right again.

I put down the stack of books I'm carrying and open my locker. My songbook is sitting on one of the metal shelves. _Someone touched it. I thought I left it at home. This must be a trick. _I ground my teeth together, a habit which I've been trying to break. I pick up the book and flip through it to make sure all my lyrics are still there. Ever since the episode with Trent, I've been even more paranoid than usual.

Everything's there, but there's a new song on the last page, one that I didn't write.

_Why're you hiding behind that face?_

_Looking so out of place_

_Like you know you don't belong_

_Why're you hiding behind that smile?_

_I know you're thinking all the while_

_Where did I go wrong_

_But why are you playing this game with me?_

_I know it's not how it's supposed to be_

_Cause the real you is hiding in there somewhere_

_The real you just really wants to be out there_

_And I'm gonna get you back to where you belong_

_The real you is just a little bit scared_

_The real you is so unprepared_

_But I'm gonna get you back to where you went wrong_

_To where you belong_

_Why're you hiding behind that dream?_

_You know you're not what you seem_

_And you're not that strong_

_Why're you hiding behind that wall?_

_You know you haven't got it all_

_And you never moved on_

_But if you're fine, then I'm fine_

_And if you're OK, then I am too_

_But if you're not right_

_Then neither am I_

_I'm so tired of playing this game with you_

_I think you know what you're supposed to do_

_Bring out the real you_

"Like it?" a voice near my ear says.

I whip my head around, banging it against the locker door. "Ow," I whimper, putting my hand to the spot that throbs.

"Are you OK?" Austin asks, his voice filled with concern. "Do you need me to get someone?"

"No," I breathe. I'm a little dizzy, but it will pass. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"Yeah," I say, looking up at him. "Hi."

"Hi," he says warmly. His eyes look like melting chocolate, the kind that you'd dip strawberries and marshmallows into. "So..." he drawls. "What did you think?"

"What did I think of what?"

"The song."

I stare at him blankly for a few moments before realizing what is going on. "You wrote that?" I ask incredulously.

He seems a little hurt that I sound so surprised, but he nods. "Near the beginning, when I was just trying to figure out what was going on. I was sitting in my room, started writing and suddenly found that I couldn't stop. Is it good?"

"It's beautiful," I say honestly.

Austin smiles.

"I'm sorry," I say. "This whole mess, it didn't have to happen. If I had just trusted you..."

"Hey," he says tenderly. "I'm glad it happened, because now I can do this." Moving the locker door so that it shields our faces from the people passing by, he kisses me quickly.

"That is definitely a benefit," I laugh, closing my locker. We sit down on the bench nearby. He puts his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. "What are we going to do now?" I ask. "You have no record deal."

"There are other producers," Austin says smoothly. "I'm not new at this anymore. I'm sure someone else will jump at the chance to sign me."

"I'd sign you," I say.

He scuffs his foot against the pavement. "Awwww. Really?"

"Really."

Austin shifts a little, and I can tell he's about to approach a subject he finds uncomfortable. "So...are we like...dating now?"

"A very good question," I reply playfully. "I would say so. What about you?"

"Do I have to ask you out first or something? I mean, that's what I've done with all the other girls. But you're not like them."

"No," I agree. "And we're not like other couples."

"Yeah." He relaxes. "I kind of skipped the rest of the relationship and went straight to 'I love you.' Very conventional."

Trish walks by. Catching sight of us, she shivers. "Gross," she whispers under her breath, then hurries on. We can't stop laughing after that.

"So glad she approves," I wheeze.

"I'm sure she'll get used to it," Austin says. "She'll have to. I don't plan on breaking up with you for a while."

I snuggle into him. "Me neither."

The bell for class rings, and the other students disappear. We don't move. It's quiet, and we're not really thinking anymore. We're content to be. "I love you too," I whisper.

_We're playing together in perfect sync. Every so often I sneak a look at the blond boy sitting beside me. He's not as good at the piano as I am, but still. Diversity counts for something. Somehow, although both of our hands are flying all over the keyboard, we manage not to get in each other's way._

_Except once. Our fingers touch._

_My reaction is odd. My mouth drops open and I turn to face him. His smile is weird; he's biting his lips and curving his mouth upward at the same time. What if? I had wondered. What if?_

_What if _was now.

* * *

**I can't believe it's done! Sorry for taking so long with this final chapter, but it actually kind of worked out perfectly, because now we're going to get real Auslly to build off of. I saw the promo for Girlfriends & Girl Friends. In the words of Megan from Cheetah Beat, "I am FREAKIIIING!" **

**Thank you all for your support. **


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